Fret about Big and Small Things.

Phase of adult interactions
but your face is like a child
skin soft - incompetent
the swirls around your mind
still taste like gelato
or a cheesecake crumble
interstates collect your cigarettes
and drum fingers fumble,
depart with screeches of the
back door
the jingling chump change you hoard

You left on Metal Gear Solid
but the outcome's so gnarly
time with teachers made you tired
your parents' monotony wets the
conversation
but you're with one foot out the house
and all your friends
want you to come out.

Author notes

I talk to myself in this poem, remembering the lack of convention in my life before I was put on probation and let myself become a psychological hypochondriac.