flower city is full of friends.
there's my friends who i met first.
who i shared a cigarette with when i told my parents i had quit.
i don't really talk to them anymore,
but we're still friends.
it was supposed to be the city
where i recovered
where i rejected my destiny
where i didn't just get out on the street and fucking run
boots against pavement
going away from the monsters in my building
going towards god knows what
maybe the ice cold water of the sound
maybe this city.
flower city is full of friends.
there's my friends i metbecause we all had one thing in common
sometimes we swap spit
sometimes we fight
sometimes we throw each other away
but we always come back
we have to come back.
it was supposed to be the city
where i was happy.
i was happy.
i was happy when we smoked weed together in the cemetery
when we drank until we couldn’t stand
when i stood in sweaty basements full of people i hated
but still had fun.
flower city is full of friends.
there's my friends who i used to live with
we were a family defined by magnetic poetry
there was [redacted] and [withheld] and [forgotten] and me
they curse my name now and i curse theirs.
we ask ourselves why the others are so angry.
it was supposed to be the city
where i found my family that wasn't my family.
flower city is full of friends.
there's me.
just me.
