Matthew Sanders Journal 2

This is my Home

Warm but cold, sweet but sour, quiet but loud.

I stand with my face down, yellow liquid dripping from my pant leg.

A regular human bladder can only hold two cups of liquid.

I drank my third cup of liquid like a thirsty bull,

Not knowing that I would feel that warm liquid trickle down my leg bone to my toes.

Who knew that the bathroom would be occupied before I could relieve myself?

“I like you as a friend,” stated my once crush.

I want her to love me, a boy who wrongly relieved himself in his own home.

I wish I could live on Mars,

Where I could create my own rabbit hole.

Maybe even create a shelf for my sugary liquid drinks.

On Mars, I could piss as I please without being judged.

Why must love be so depressing?

I don’t want her to love me,

Why would I want her to love me?

Love is like a bicycle.

My uncle had a bicycle before, one of the wheels was lost, making it worthless.

The bicycle being his marriage of course, the detached wheel being his wife.

I can’t stop myself from thinking about her, my mind is clouded with her smile.

However, the knife of pain penetrating my chest tells me to let it go.

Piss, Love, Mars, they are all things that one must live with,

Even the most light hearted people such as Adam Sandler.

The knife of pain penetrating my chest tells me to let it go.

Let it go.