the american wet dream

eating up all my insides, untamed by whiny songs and memories and 500 days of bummer; there’s a light shining somewhere saying:
“hey kid, you just haven’t made it home yet”

FUCK

just take me home then, I’ll hold your hand and I’ll go to war over love; my scuffed up vans versus your shiny shoes, tore up jeans tangled with a flower skirt
onto the firing squad of regret, worst enemy (me) as the host
i’ll emulate Dylan when I say I love you the most

one day, just tell leoníe and micah “you’ve got your father’s eyes” “your mother’s thirst for life”
and the best love stories always have a few sad pages