TW: underage drug usage, traumaqueer/inhumanity
rating: 0+x

there are two ways to lay on pavement: the way that children do, and the way the dying do. children lay on pavement very peacefully. they bask in the warm sun, and they are near their mother, who is standing up, and she is watching over them. the dying lay on pavement very fearfully, and they are alone, and no one is watching over them. when children lay on pavement, they have their sleeves rolled down. when the dying lay on pavement, they have their sleeves rolled up. sometimes they both think they see angels. when children are children, they are called angels; when the dying are dying, they say they will become angels. sometimes, though, children die. when children die, they lay on the pavement in a mixture of peace and fear — guilty relief. this is because children don't want to die, they want to have fun. they want to at least die with their mother watching over them, but sometimes, whether they knew or not, their mother was never ever watching over them, and they die all the same. the children don't always die with their sleeves rolled up, but sometimes, when they do roll their sleeves up, they die because of this. have you ever watched someone die of a heroin overdose? i watched a child die of a heroin overdose in Englewood, almost three-to-five years ago now. i was walking through an alleyway and i was scared and alone. i was also a child. i saw a child on their back porch, and his sleeves were rolled up, and his eyes were rolled up, and his head was rolled back. on his bare arm was a plastic band and somewhere on the pavement was the needle. i stood next to him for a little bit. i didnt understand, because i was just a child. and so was he. i looked at him for a while. pitter patter on the pavement. it began to rain. as i walked home, the flashes of light looked like angels. i wondered if the child would make it up there. i wondered if maybe his mother was an angel, or if his mother was like mine. i wondered where the needle fell out. i wonder if his soul escaped through the poke through his veins. i wondered if he could be an angel even after everything. i wondered if i could be an angel even after everything. i wonder if, when he died, he thought to himself, "i don't want to die, i just want to have fun." i wonder if when we do drugs or drink beer or smoke cigarettes or vape weed, i wonder if its because we just want to have fun the way children do. i wonder if thats why children do them, because they cant really feel like children anymore. i wonder how i'll end up on the pavement — like a child, or like the dying? or will i be another dying child? will i have my mother to watch over me will i have an angel to watch over me? will i be an angel? will i make an angel pattern in the pavement, the way children do? the way children have fun eludes me. my house just had pavement around it. sometimes, when it rained, i would lay down on the pavement. i listened to the pitter patter on the pavement, and i remembered when my two older brothers went on a footrace across the street because they thought itd be funny, but it started to hail, and they started to bleed from the hail. little pokes all over their bodies. on their arms, over their veins, like little needle pokes. they werent my brothers really. but i wish they were. i can remember standing over the window with an angel, their mother, who was like an angel to me, and we watched them footrace as the rain turned to hail, and little flashes of light were in the sky. they were having fun the way children do. it was like i was a child. when i looked up at that angel, she smiled back at me and she said id never ever ever have to be with my mother again. an angel in the rain, while the kids got little pokes over their arms and legs. i wonder if the child who died of a heroin overdose ever had that. i wonder if he watched his older brothers footrace in the hail. maybe when he saw the pokes he thought it was fun, so he started doing heroin. maybe that's why he went out like that. maybe when we get poked, no matter by what, a little bit of our angel-stuff leaks out all over the pavement, and maybe as it goes, it says I don't want to Die, I want to have Fun. i hope i lay down on the pavement the way children do someday. i hope i had enough fun.

but since im writing this i probably didnt

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