I truly believe happiness
is listening to your hometown heroes
play their final show at their favorite venue
and crying with them as they play their final song.

And everyone in the crowd sings along.

It's always been a dream of mine-
a dream as big as the state of Nebraska,
but they've taught me, my hometown heroes,
that hope IS a good thing.

And my hometown is Lincoln. And my hometown is where dreams come true.

intoxicated again.
holding in alcohol.
vomiting words.

we'll die from the medication.
i'm following your footsteps.
running the race you've already
won by five years, easy.

alcohol again.
vomiting intoxication.
holding in words.

let's cut to the chase.


stagger through barely unlocked doorways
tripping off jeans over still-tied shoes
falling onto unmade beds, a mess of belt buckles and baffling buttons

scrambling hands and hungry mouths
exploring every surface within reach

teeth tugging, hair pulling, air- gasping

I want you to want me so badly you forget to breath.



collapse into covers, inviting embrace.
but make no mistake,
boy, let's cut to the chase.


we know where this stumbling, tumbling, fumbling leads.
and it isn't marriage ceremonies.
or happy endings.



inevitabilities.


soon, distance will destroy this life we both lead.


but why would I lead a life of misery
when I can have what is sitting right in front of me?


each second lost, is resolve gained
perhaps if we pretend you're not leaving, nothing will change.




. . . if we can just tell ourselves, May will n e v e r come . . .
                   . . . winter will n e v e r  end . . .
                          



if ignorance is bliss, and there is no escape...
let's lie to each other; let's lie to ourselves.


let's not waste our time; let's cut to the chase.

Your arms cannot hoist me from the well,
your hope echoes, cheapening the sentiment,
the moon may be full,
but it's dark down here alone.

There are three dresses,
drinking the rain
and the sky is doing somersaults
in your bones.

I will rip
you
the **** out of me,
go through my chest
right to the back of my rib cage,
rip that ******* string out
like God yanking the lights out on the world,
I'll ******* make you dark
and hateful,
I swear
I'll just rip all that love
just to get to the naked
emaciated soul.
Rip whatever shreds
that thing's clinging too
with bony, skin-loose
fingers.

Make it all wretched,
ripping the string of you
out of me,
like the ****-string
of a shrimp,
for the world to see
I'll rip you out of me.

It's not going to be pretty
or romantic
or tragic,
it's going to be the ugliest ******* thing you've ever seen.