A poem by Someone Unknown.

On a yellow piece of paper with green lines

he wrote a poem

And he called “Chops”

because that was the name of his dog 

And that’s what it was all about

And his teacher gave him an A

and a gold star

And his mother hung it on the kitchen door

and read it to his aunts

That was the year Father Tracy 

took all the kids to the zoo

And let them sing on the bus

And his little sister was born

with tiny toenails and no hair

And his mother and father kissed alot

And the girl around the corner sent him a 

Valentine signed with a row of X’s

and he had to ask his father the X’s meant

And his father always tucked him bed at night

And was always there to do it.

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines

he wrote a poem

And he called it “Autumn”

because that was the name of the season

And that’s what it was all about

And his teacher gave him an A

and asked him to write more clearly

And his mother never hung on the kitchen door

because of its new paint

And the kids told him

that father tracy smoked cigars 

And left butts on the pews

And sometimes they would burn holes

That was the year his got glasses

with thick lenses and black frames

And the girl around the corner laughed

when he asked her to go see Santa Claus

And the kids told him why

his mother and father kissed  a lot

And his father never tucked him in bed at night

And his father got mad

when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook 

he wrote a poem

And he called it “Innocence: A Question”

because that was the questions about his girl

And that’s what it was all about

And his professor gave him an A

and a strange steady look

And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door

because he never showed her

That was the year that Father Tracy died

And he forgot how the end

of the Apostle’s Creed went

And he caust his sister

making out on the back porch

And his mother and father never kissed

or even talked

And the girl around the corner

wore too much makeup

That made him caugh when he kissed her

but he kissed her anyway

because that was the thing to do

And at three A.M he tucked himself into bed

his father snoring soundly

That’s why on the back of a brown paper bag 

he tried another poem

And he called it “Absolutely Nothing”

Because that’s what it was really all about

And he gave himself an A

and a slash on each damned writ

And he hung it on the bathroom door

because this time he didnt think

he could reach the kitchen.

An excerpt from The perks of being a wallflower.



“To say a person is a happy person or an unhappy person is ridiculous. We are a thousand different kinds of people every hour.”

Anthony Doerr, Memory Wall (via flentes)
I’ve always wanted to grow weed out of a Chia pet.

enter-the-floyd:

one day… it will happen.








Friends for 11 years and counting