They Have Always Been Skittles

Addicted to an unreal fiasco.
You said.
I agreed.
There I stand, naked, forgetting again.
The year that nothing changed.
This boy I knew when I was young,
He tells you that I am right.
And before listening to me,
You will listen to him.
About this?
Shit.

There I stand, naked, old, with buttons.
It is all I can do to scream at you in my head.
That I remember, what I read,
that time, about the eldest child.
Am I.
Am I not.
Inconsiderate of these unfed people.

It is all I can do to stop from caring,
All the time.
She wont care.
She will grow.
She will change.

I will always, stay the same.

I will always, be forgotten.

She said to move.
In November,
too early.
Everyone will know and she will not come back.
It is a bad thing, and I agree,
But suddenly, I am wrong.

She is right.
She will go.
November is just a day away this time.

I cant remember past this.
I cant remember beyond this.

Addicted to an unreal fiasco.
Addicted to my sleep.

(They are skittles.)