Living on the Scandinavian streets have
humbled her.
No Christmas cards with
a 20 spot anymore.
No trust fund from
Mom and Dad.
All the money vanished like
the last spider of *****,
like a dropped bottle of beer.
She could go to a
shelter by herself,
but she chooses
life on the
streets in the
brutal winter to be
with her Swedish boyfriend.
Love is lunacy--sometimes frozen.
Two dead friends last year on
a mad moonlit night.
Human icicles on
the Iowa City streets.

One time while drunk,
her and I stole
the neighbors canoe.
We had her little
black dog with us.
I dubbed him,
Senator Ted Kennedy;
probably because we
were all drunks,
(not the dog) I don't think...
We wrestled the canoe into
the Iowa river, and
immediately proceeded to
tip it over.
The Canoe sank like
a bad bet by Hunter S. Thompson.
We could've easily drowned, but we
laughed our ***** off,
choking and splashing,
except Teddy, he swam
for Boston.

I sing the body electric.
I'm dazzled by the promise of a greater tomorrow. I'm dizzied by the awareness of my own consciousness.
My body is merely a container for the soul that begs to be removed from its restrictions, for it is imprisoned within fragile bones and tender flesh.
It sings the body electric.
A melody that resembles a plea before slowly releasing a sigh in defeat against its enclosure.
It yearns from something better than what is offered in such a short span of time.
Life is short, they claim but life is indeed long.
Long and harsh, the road ahead.
We travel forward singing the body electric.

Being alone is nice sometimes,
but it can be very lonely too.
Seeing all the fun that they can have
doing things you can no longer do.

It feels like God is picking on me,
saying "Haha look at you!
I'm going to give you the grandest dreams
but you'll be gone by 32."

I try to talk to the people around
although it seems that they don't understand.
I can't really do all the things I would like,
but i'm trying the best that I can.

I used to find pleasure in the simple things,
like a beer and a bask in the sun.
The era of joy and stars in my eyes
it seems is finally done.

So please reserve your judgements until you
can feel what I feel inside.
Don't tell me how to spend my time
when it's a pain to be alive.

I've been trying to find a way to live
while also struggling to survive.
So ******* until you've died and come back to life
before you could even drive.

And when I decide it's my time to go,
you can bet I won't be sober.
I bought the ticket, I took the ride,
but now Football Season Is Over.

I see Thoreau as a token
You and my airplane ticket.

I never get it why you only declare your love for Thoreau
Instead of something darker, Hunter S Thompson,Marijuana
Or me.

Traveling in Denmark now, I guess you'll eventually head to the Netherlands.
Where your true colors shine through your eye socket.

Oh, so I still admire you
Dreaming of having a walk with you beside Walden
Having Arizona ice tea in the dessert

I beg Thoreau to win me an airplane ticket to
The unknown