|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
I've Changed (poem)I've Changed
i change the color of my eyes
for my world looks so askew.
maybe i'll feel better if i'm
violet, red, or blue.
i change the color of my skin
to blinding ivory: snow.
every winter clings to me
and i want everyone to know.
i change the color of this room
to kill the normal: insincere.
if everything is fake,
i have nothing left to fear.
PAST SELF: THIS IS FOR YOU.SUP SELF.
I'm assuming that you're probably 15 or 16 years old upon receiving this letter, which is good, because I have MUCH TO DISCUSS WITH YOU YOU HILARIOUS, HILARIOUS CHILD.
So I've been reading the HSJNTs recently just to look back on the old days (the present). You have a lot of them now. You might be proud of being on the v3 or the v4 at this point, but dude… keep writing them things, because they will provide your future self with much entertainment later on. xD
Now before we get too mushy here, I just want to say that you are a huge beast. Not even kidding. You're extremely cool, and all of those douchebags in Forsy's class and the morons who like to put their feet up under your desk in various classes and people who don't see how amazing you are are just a bunch of nogmosters that you shouldn't even concern yourself with. After high school, you will literally never see any of them again (as far as I know, anyway. I'm [you're] only 20 right now so who knows.). Also, you pretty
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
if you need help making it through the dayremember:
Keep in Touch!