Misfits in his ears.

black on green, 20 eyes in my head. LIttle misfit boy. he's 12 and watching joe piss on an oak tree. Tie a yellow ribbon. "Mom's gonna have your head for that."

"fuck off squirt." time and time again. new dawn fades. *** the tv blares. inside and ren clobbers stimpy. snow shadow interference. "why can't we get cable, ma?"

he's 12 and its all so big. ringing ears and stale smoke from the afternoon's back alley experience. "what happened to you? you look like hell."

"nothing."

"what do you mean, nothing? your ear is fucked up and your shirt, blood stained red. who did that to you?"

"no one, leave me alone."

runs to his room and slams the door. music louder changing clothes. tears streaming down his face. a few minutes later a knock. then another. "I can't hear you." another. another. " I CAN'T HEAR YOU! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

"open the door."

sunlight filters through dusty blinds, shines bright on muddy socks and a bloody t-shirt. punk rock hero. and afternoon to see particles floating to evaporate in golden brown carpet.

"open the door!"

he gets up -- walks over head down, shoulders sunk, unlocks the door and turns his back before it opens.

"what happened."

"nothing. i don't wanna talk about it." shrugs his shoulders and sits in the corner of his bed. plaid pattern red and green. plays with the micromachines on the shelf. looks all around, everywhere but at the older boy towering above him. indifferent gaze. i don't care.

"it ain't right. this happens every week and i'm sick of it. tell me who did it and i'll take care of it."

"i don't wanna." and his eyes start to swell. red. " i don't wanna, just go away."

rejection is always hard.