Why do I want to do my own thing?
Why do I always want to be in trouble?
Why don’t I stay home...in one place?
Why do I always run away?
Why do I lie to AJ?
Why can’t I just tell the truth?
Why can’t I tell him I love him?
I killed a tree writing notes last night,
but the question ravaging my mind
does not relate to the fine points of progressivism.
Even I, as little as I live, am too distracted to get this right.
I take a seat on the steps of my porch