Not that it matters to me

Drink until the ache sobers
enough to drive you crazy
from absence of pain, now
look who's healthy enough
to have no excuse for misery?
I got beat up by bikers, curious
whether bruises last as long
on the surface, a blue-gray
broken vein art show. Fists
make excellent paintbrushes.
Don't tell my parents I'm not
a kid anymore, how drugs
don't sound so bad, that
I can live without school
or milk and still smile as
much as they do or don't.
If I fall in love again I'll be
ruined, not for the first time,
the last time, for every time
I go out hungry and wake
up next to a foreign body,
hungrier and less filled. It
never ends, not that I want
it to but a few hundred years
of sleep doesn't sound so
bad. I would say let's be
young forever but forever
ended in her uncles bedroom,
when mom left, at different
times for each of us but it
always ends.