I often feel like a wild beast, fleeing at the smallest movement.

I fled when I realized that we weren’t in love.

We weren’t in love,

but fuck it if I wasn’t.

It dawned upon me too late that you were a wild beast too,

gnawing on your own leg to get out of the trap

that I apparently was.

You left me to pick your hair out of the drain

and the pictures down from the walls,

like picking scabs off too soon.

I don’t know how to translate that into poetry.

And know I’m here, smoking your cigarettes just for the scent.

When the sleep won’t come,

don’t open the vodka.

When the words won’t come,

don’t pick up the phone.

I don’t know if you touched me just to break me like a promise.

I don’t know if you touched me, because I was the first thing

in a long time that felt good,

but it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair,

I never got to yell,

I got to sit in silent tears with hangovers

you could name battleships after.

The first time you touched me, I didn’t know what to do with my hands,

like they were alien things, like I’d never had hands before

and this was the first time, and maybe they belonged in my pockets, and maybe they didn’t.

The first time, we were in the same bed I tried so hard to stay still.

It was the first time, our bodies were that close, the electricity could light whole cities.

I felt like screaming, or think of Charlie,

‘I got a Golden Ticket, I GOT A GOLDEN TICKET’,

breathing was hard like algebra, or why we do the things we do,

only thirty seconds had passed, this was worse than breathing under water,

I wanted to say so many things and nothing,

I felt everything.

I know I leaned into the insecurity too fast.

I’m either slow and shuffling or colliding at maximum speed.

I don’t know gray, never have.

And now I’m sitting here, five beers in,

with charred lungs from the cigarettes I devoured

in the attempt to smoke you out of my head.

I am still surprised I’m alive.

I tried to forget you, you know,

but you grew roots around my ribcage

and sprouted sunflowers below my cheekbones.

I wish my mother had told me

that you can’t water flowers with vodka.

And now I can’t think about anything else other than the hickey on your neck.

And you’re out fucking some blonde girl who gets high all the time,

and I’m a fucking mess.

You’re up in the mountains, and I’m drowning in lakes while you’re describing the water.

I’m scared of the nights.

I’m scared I’m losing my mind.

I’m scared you’re going to stay in me forever.

The day you left, I realized why hurricanes are named after people.

(Lights up on BRIAN and DENNIS, both roughly 20, sitting opposite one another in a restaurant booth with empty plates in front of them. MITCH and LAUREN sit opposite one another in the booth behind them and wear black t-shirts. LAUREN sits slumped and resting her head on her hand, drunk. MITCH eats. They are somewhere between 28 and 45; hard living has made their ages difficult to determine.)

BRIAN

They both save people, they both always will, but down at his core Batman has way deeper motivation than Superman.

DENNIS

The dead parent thing? Come on, Brian Jones.

BRIAN

Yes, the dead parent thing. What can be a more powerful motivator than the dead parent thing?

DENNIS

Everybody has dead parents. Green Arrow, Spiderman, Superman too, for that matter.

BRIAN

When he was a baby. It doesn’t count as the dead parent thing if they don’t see them die.

DENNIS

Whatever, Brian Jones. Your uber-powerful motivator is still the same stupid thing that every other superhero has.

BRIAN

Batman watched his parents get shot in the streets while he stood there helpless. His whole life is trying to fix something that can’t be fixed, and he knows it, because no matter what he does people will still get shot in the street.

DENNIS

Dead parent thing for everybody.

BRIAN

Three cheers for the dead parent thing.

(They clink glasses of soda.)

DENNIS

Superman still has a better motivation.

BRIAN

“I’m strong, I guess I should do something?” You call that motivation?

DENNIS

It’s responsibility. No one else can do what he can, and he knows it. With great power comes great responsibility, and no one is more powerful than Superman. He can do anything. You were wrong about this argument in eighth grade and you’re still wrong now. You’re just wrong with bigger words.

BRIAN

My vocabulary in eighth grade was just fine, and it’s all abstract for Superman. Batman sees the dark reality, he lives it, he’s inextricable from it. He knows what Gotham is like, and he’s got to fight it.

DENNIS

It’s not about seeing the darkness, it’s about the responsibility of doing what you can. What time is it?

BRIAN

Couple minutes to one.

DENNIS

Sweet. I’m gonna load up one more plate before they close the midnight buffet.

BRIAN

To be continued.

DENNIS

You already lost, Brian Jones. It’s just taking you seven years to realize it.

(DENNIS exits toward the buffet. BRIAN gets out his phone and starts reading something. After a few seconds LAUREN speaks, too loudly and slightly slurred.)

LAUREN

How the hell can you eat anything?

MITCH

(with his mouth full)

Like this.

LAUREN

How the hell can you eat anything? After what Gary said.

MITCH

Gary’s a sick bastard.

LAUREN

So do something about it.

MITCH

What am I supposed to do?

LAUREN

Some girl’s out there laying dead in a ditch somewhere, and you’re just going to sit there and eat? How the hell can you eat anything?

(BRIAN looks up from his phone and listens.)

MITCH

Hearsay. All hearsay.

LAUREN

He didn’t talk like hearsay.

MITCH

He was drinking and running his mouth.

LAUREN

Some girl’s laying dead in a ditch out there!

MITCH

Just running his mouth.

LAUREN

Gary could have done it. He’d do that. Don’t you know Gary could do that?

MITCH

I don’t know.

LAUREN

He’s scary as hell. You know Gary could do that.

MITCH

I said, I don’t know.

LAUREN

Yeah you do. I do. I do…

(LAUREN shakes her head, MITCH resumes eating, and DENNIS returns and sits.)

DENNIS

Alright Brian Jones, here’s the big question. You say Batman’s more motivated. So let’s suppose your great hero Batman knows something bad’s going down, something that—

(BRIAN vehemently gestures for silence.)

LAUREN

She could be somebody’s sister. Somebody’s daughter.

MITCH

You don’t even know her name, so cut the shit. Gary was drinking and running his mouth.

LAUREN

Some girl’s body is rotting in the fucking woods, and you say—

MITCH

You’re talking too loud.

LAUREN

—you say he’s running his mouth, but Gary’s scary as hell. You know what he did to Shelly last year, and God knows what he did to this poor woman.

MITCH

Gary’s sick idea of a joke.

LAUREN

A woman dead in a ditch off Telegraph Road somewhere ain’t a goddamn joke.

MITCH

Gary’s a sick crazy bastard, and I don’t know what he did do or didn’t, but it ain’t my problem.

LAUREN

What kind of a man are you?

MITCH

Living. Hungry as hell. And smart enough not to fuck with Gary.

LAUREN

I’m gonna call the cops.

MITCH

Sure you are.

LAUREN

You’re so big and bad and you won’t do anything, so I’m gonna call the cops.

MITCH

Hearsay. Every word of it is hearsay.

LAUREN

Somebody’s sister is out there goddamn dead, and I’m gonna call the cops and I’m gonna--

MITCH

And what the hell are you gonna tell them? “I know this guy Gary who hits women, and he was drinking and said two years ago he killed one of them.” Good story.

LAUREN

He said it was in the woods off Telegraph Road.

MITCH

Telegraph Road is nine goddamn miles long. Now will you shut up? Somebody will hear you.

LAUREN

I don’t care if they do. Somebody’s daughter is dead in a ditch out in the woods somewhere—

MITCH

Drop it, Lauren. Shut the fuck up and go to the register.

(MITCH grabs her arm, but LAUREN shakes him off. MITCH exits and LAUREN follows. A cell phone remains on their table.)

DENNIS

What the heck was that?

BRIAN

I don’t know.

DENNIS

Should we do something?

BRIAN

I don’t know. Do you know where Telegraph Road is?

DENNIS

No. Do you?

BRIAN

I think it’s off Whitestown. I don’t know. Should we call somebody?

DENNIS

We have a first name, and a timeframe, and a location sort of. It's not everything but it's something. We should--

(MITCH returns to the table and picks up the phone. He notices BRIAN and DENNIS looking and glares at them. BRIAN and DENNIS lower their eyes, and MITCH exits. Some moments pass.)

DENNIS

We should get the check.

BRIAN

Aren’t you going to eat that food?

DENNIS

No… We should leave.

BRIAN

Yeah.

(BRIAN and DENNIS get up and leave. Lights stay on the empty set for a few seconds.)

(Blackout.)

I love how you can express yourself with writing, molding and twisting words to craft something that could impact millions. What starts with a single scrawled sentence could turn into something so much more. Writing opens doorways that used to be sealed tightly, allowing you to explore new things with your words leading the way, a flashlight illuminating the pathway to the future. Words are the most powerful weapon that humanity has in our arsenal, despite the fact that not everyone can use them. I write because I am lucky to be a part of that legacy, because I am lucky to have the privilege of expression through my writing when others do not and I believe I should use that to the fullest extent of my ability, that all writers should, so we can work to change the future and allow everyone the freedom of expression. I write for hope and for freedom, because I hope others get to experience the freedom that comes with writing even though they currently cannot. I dream of the future because I am able to, a future where we all get to experience speaking our minds and, and I dream to shape that future with a pen in hand.