an epic poem that I can't convince my pen to write
'cause I've been far too busy riding city buses
and drinking beer,  and staying in bed.

a theme of budding alcoholism,
                                              and seasonal depression.

classes and meals skipped,
                                                  comas and car crashes.
it's all real, and it's all happening.

it's going home and then leaving it again,
boxes both packed and unpacked,
facebook messages I wish I could take back.

pages I leave blank,
                    when I want to write all the way down.
puking in your driveway,
                              the last night that I skipped town.
phone calls to celia,
                                 until I get to go see her again.
running into your houses,
                                 smoking cigarettes with friends.

I hope that Portland swallows you up.
and that Seattle drowns you.