an ode to the nite ratz club

the gas inside the combustion engine

took away all of the mystery and adventure

from the walk to your house

in the dark

so that we could stay out all night long

and be king of all the roads

and the woods

and the lake

or anything we chose

because everything was ours. and we would spraypaint 'nrc' so everyone would know. we would break into the factory. our childhood autonomy

had no respect for authority

or property

or your asshole neighbors' complaints. and i still have all the keys

to the forklifts that we never got a chance to drive around

or tear the building down ourselves. from the top of the water tower

we spilled our guts on one another

and we compiled them together

and we all shared the same heart. and we hated all construction

but we loved all their machines

and they hated our destruction

and we picked their locks apart. and we thought we were damn clever

cause they never kept us out

and we thought we'd live forever. until the night when it got way too serious

and you showed me your damaged wrists

and you broke down and we embraced

and nothing at that time meant more to me. and if i had only known

that it would be the last time

we'd be on that level with one another

i would have never let you go. i still walk those paths at night

but now just on my own. i recite to myself every story in hopes that i will never let them go. and i'll hold on to every polaroid from france and rome

and remember the nights at the alamo as if it were my second home. and i know that we had no idea what we were doing

but an artist's first work can be his greatest under a different set of lenses. and our ideas of staying close together for all time;

i wish i still had that same state of mind.