Out of Reckless Disrepair

I am the offspring of over-sized denim jackets,

of long strands of straight hair,
of crimson-painted lips,

of screaming vocals echoing from a small source,
of too much alcohol and too little time.

I am the offspring of hushed words in the darkness
and the dizziness of constant travel,

of dirty upturned pennies
and the tar that gleams hot beneath the summer sun,

of dandelions that are crushed underfoot,
of the late night stillness where the loudest thoughts grow.

I am the offspring of whirlwind emotions,
adult tidal waves crashing against youth's shore.

I am the offspring of the missing piece to the nearly finished puzzle,
of the last sip of water as the sun beats down.

The fading memory from a not too distant past,
the last thought before the deep sleep of a long day-
the child of the lost.