Highschool of Heros

Black and white dresses filled that February night. Glistening cheeks and chapped lips disguised by red lipstick. We made love on that dance floor; elitist snobs, beautiful poets, strong willed jocks, big haired artists, skinny waisted sluts, blue eyed virgins, hooka smoking hippies, boa wearing misfits all bumping and grinding to nameless rhymes and for a moment in time we are a highschool of heroes and we love eachother with a reckless passion.
Monday morning we will trade this freedom dripping from our chests for a uniform of insercurity. For history books and ADD. For whispers and keyboards and fake smiles. But we will bathe this night in meaningless kisses while sour breathed parents watch with shaming eyes. We will nap on crusty couches with dark haired boys in our homeroom as Donny Darko lights up on the TV. We will let our laugfhter ring through a yellow Waffle House- eating grits and falling in love with our chinese waitress. Yes, we got down on our hands and knees to scrub away crimson blood. Yes, we made promises our rebellious hearts will never keep. But we will sing those songs for an eternity,
and someday when our cherry cheeks are wrinkled and the world has worn us down
we will find refuge in these digital pictures snapped with frantic fingers.

We are just a generation of plastic angels.
I have ink in my teethe and it tastes like the truth,
I would rinse my mouth but your listerines are nothing but minty poison.