Charlie

Walking home alone on Sunday night,

Repulsively thinking that this day was anything but sunny.

Clouds blurring his vision and rainbows pushing him to act

Like everything is … cool.

The only cool thing about Charlie is the milk in his fridge

And the Friday midnights he had to spend in front of a register’s crazy cash machine

Scanning until he could convert the beeping sound into a drumbeat

For his depressive band whose fate is hanging from a fishing rod.

Now, back to Charlie,

The youth with the grey hands and blue mind

‘Cause lately everything’s just been … blue.

Sunday nights used to be family nights

Or as he called them, God’s punishment.

That was before Charlie concluded that there was no such being such as “God”

And his parents kicked him out of the house with a cross on one hand and money on the other.

Takeout Chinese seemed more peaceful than the Sunday food fights with his sister.

Now, back to Charlie,

The boy with brown eyes and yellow teeth

‘Cause lately everything’s been … hard.

After the Chinese meal, he checks himself out on the mirror;

So tiny, so little, so terribly thin he needs a belt to keep his pants on.

No, not in the sexual way cause Charlie, oh, Charlie isn’t attracted to anyone or anything;

His father preferred his own belt on his skin rather than on his pants though.

Now, back to Charlie

The man with the purple skin and red smile

‘Cause lately everything’s been … unsteady.

Likewise, Charlie, everyone is beautiful.

Be careful where your colors go or -

Maybe you’ll end up watching Charlie’s suicide at the eleven news

And wish that, That was you.