A year of throwing cigarettes out of a window.
If I could be looking out the passenger window for a year
I think I would be fine.
When I look out of my window,
I realize February is starting to freeze my heart
and I could use some new scenery.
I would leave my phone behind
and open a pack of 20 friends.
Handing one to the driver,
I’d watch the smoke roll off the burning fruit between my fingers.
People might ask me where I’m going
and I’d smile and tell them I don’t know,
I just got sick of being at home.
“Was it because you were alone?”
“I actually fought it as hard as I could.
I left women in tears
and I would share all of my beer.
It’s a battle that removes your reflection
and this year would have went by without me knowing anyways.
If I stayed home, my mind would have rot.
If I ran my fingers across the bars, my heart would have died.”
As I roll a spliff,
“There’s something about freedom that is beautiful.
You can’t describe it in anyway other than weight off your chest.
It produces a smile that you couldn’t smack off my face
and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.
When you never have to ask for directions
but you never know where you’re going,
You’ll feel me.
You’re somewhere between lost and found
something like being suspended between the sky and the ground.”
Although a caged bird sings,
it could be something of the blues.
If you open the door to that cage,
do you think the bird will stay?
If you just faced it to an open window,
do you really think it’s wings would remain silent?
It is snowing out now,
and my window remains closed.
The only hope I have as of now,
is that it hasn’t froze.