The loud kids passing by, preying on their next party high, as the autumn night breeze hit the
Chests of those who are far gone.

We sit at the old table that was designed for good times and highs, as I rocked back and forth,
I’d focus on the flower pot at the edge of the table, as the autumn night breeze hit my chest, I am far gone.

The wooden floor of dust, and dander and ashes of tomorrows would sit swiftly underneath my feet as we’d banter and laugh, as the autumn night breeze hit our chests, we were far gone.

The three warm chairs being left behind, the spider webs tucked in the corner,
A joint smoked down to its glory days, but life left in it carefully tucked cosy in the crack of the table, as we dance and sing, as the autumn night breeze hit the chests of those who are far gone.

The sirens of UB campus cops busting under age night crawlers from partaking in underage drinking, the 4 loko tucked in my loud cow print bag,
Three plates of curry on the table, cold but made of warmth, two nibbled on and one with not a trace of curry left,
The creaky porch,
The street lights,
The far gone crazy kids waving hi,
My thoughts, and the pull of my chest collaborating trying to figure out whats next,
Just the autumn night breeze hitting my chest, I wonder how far I’ll go.