By Ali Hudnall
Haight Resident

I watched the best minds of my generation lose themselves amongst their thoughts trapped and full of anxious curiosity,

Sitting in bus stations or on street corners hoping that this ride will lead them to some kind of answer satisfactory to the questions they cant figure out, and wondering what stop to get off at to be able to meet the boss or the parents or the P.O. before the court date and the wedding and the promotion that should go to someone more capable of planning their life, in more than steps taken only to find the next so the mind isn’t left to wander,

Who believes they are worthless unless noticed or ugly unless told otherwise needing this reassurance to avoid those wandering the streets in heels and long coats asking any bartender where she can find a free drink while flashing the lace hidden from the cold air outside,
Who hope never to be compared to anything labeled yet label themselves by leaving at 10 o’clock Friday night to be back by four the next day and out again at seven and finding themselves in their bed alone at lunch on Sunday wondering who the hell let them, in or how they found their way back from wherever they went or if they even left in the first place,

Who run in fear with retro shoes and bloodied lipstick and spray cans gripped tightly passing the dirty looks with guilt but pleasure for this was their goal wasn’t it?

Who cry alone in their comforters at night after crawling back through the window and hiding their flask and birth control and wishing they had stayed out just long enough to have one more cigarette before leaving themselves with no distractions from seeing how far they have wandered from home, too far to recognize themselves in the stores or on the railroad tracks and instead looking at street signs to find the places they have lived their entire lives,

Who look at the rooftops as canvases and basements as recording studios before noticing the no trespassing signs or civilians with their shotguns aimed out the barred window of their 5th Street apartment,

Who have little chance of surviving their own creativity and give into it despite the fact.

Who rush back and forth for the adrenaline of avoiding responsibility and finding independence through secrets of rainbow colored pills and that white powder that really seems to help get rid of the need for much anything else,

Who question mysterious deaths of those people pointing out that the water we drink is owned by a company also funding the deaths of innocent people in a different part of the world,

Who wonder what will happen to everyone if the circus is stopped and the planets align for a much clearer view of our island like isolation from anything and everything that could exist in the endless unknown we are surrounded by.

Those who say remember the times, before eights, quarters, ounces and pounds before eight balls dollar bills and razor blades and when grandmas house meant cookies instead of an unguarded medicine cabinet remember the times,

Remember the times we were happy.

Who wait and wonder and defend their meaningless causes with words stolen from another while blowing smoke rings to pass the time and others sit shaking and high trying to find that 20 bucks hidden under the seat cushion to fund their destruction through the night.

Remember the times we were happy?

Who scream for help as he approaches with the snarl so recognizable as the foreshadowing of pain that goes back to the earliest memories when he said “I’m your father, I wouldn’t never lie to you” walking through the schoolyard as he drives you away from your mother to bribe your innocent mind by playing hooky and convincing you it was her fault the balloon floated away at your birthday party, and then locking you inside a glass room laughing at your pain after destroying any sense of self confidence you may have ever possessed in your fragile teen years showing you he will take any measure for control even if it ends your life at least he can he say won and he tried to save you.

Who sit watching adult swim and family guy until 3 unable to sleep from their daily doses of prescriptions wishing the serotonin levels in their brain could be normal and stable without 100 mg of 5-hydroxytriptophan or at least a quad stacked pill named after some designer handbag to make the intensity of Methylenedioxymethamphetamine seem more glamorous,

I’m with you little girl being driven away by strangers to one to those “fix you” camps where they strip you of your identity to show you they can create whoever they want out of how they leave you,

I am with you believers in your reckless attacks against anything and everything that could possibly stand in the way of finding what you want and impatiently seek to have,

I am with you young lovers hiding below the cliffs to hold on to every moment you have together before the sun rises and the world turns back into a secret… or is it a lie?

I am with you big brother as you wait for the sentencing of your most recent offense too much like all the others and walk into the courtroom knowing it may be your last free steps for at least five years,

I am with you big sister as you drink vodka for breakfast so that you don’t have to remember waking up into the world you have created for yourself,

I am with you, in the asylum, where you will stay,

For your mind has taken over your body and your eyes no longer wish to see the world the way it is presented. And they will never accept that.