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Oh, for fuck's fucking fuck.

My aching balls.

6/17/11 05:24 am - hhhuh.

haven't done this in a while. it's not great, but something's twitching. a year from now, this is going to make me cringe.



there really isn't a reset button



My roommate can't stop vomiting
up the recriminations he's been shooting
all night; i am waiting for him to fall
asleep with his head on the toilet
and tonight we are still brothers and i know
the ex and the drama, her new man's unborn
maybe unwanted, but growing nonetheless like a feeling
that maybe we both could have been more than propping
each other up just long enough to get home and collapse.
when your brother weeps, sometimes, he pours the tears
down his own throat, sometimes you hold the bottle, sometimes
he buys it but mostly you share that shit and shrug it off
sometimes your god's name is fuck it, nobody would believe i felt, anyway.

we are in the same bathroom where we cut each other's hair.
I have swept us both off this floor, but i cannot pick him up,
i know how the spit on his chin tastes, thick and in the back
half of the throat, though i am more sober than lost, tonight

this is how i watch over him:
immediately and facefirst on the cold tile
immediately and i don't need to say i know
immediately and silent

i have locked a handful of habits above the sink
the booze, how you learn to consume handfuls of salt and bottles
of water before you go to bed
the knowing that if you stay up, your metabolism never slows down
and the horror is less, how the birds start chirping at five thirty
but never leave the trees until seven, the popsicle sunrise,
"What time is it?" "I dono. It's blue."
"if we lean in together, neither of us will fall down,

I have a headache because you can't cry," it's a magic trick,
turning wine into pity, pity into strength.

everyone thinks we believe this mess is romantic,
but we are always ashamed,
and we are only proud of getting up tomorrow.

9/8/10 10:07 am - In bullet points:

- In a band. We're called The Marsh. I'm going to ease into trying to get the guys to change our name to The Nothing Kings. (I bought a nice reverb pedal. It's nice. My friend Sean is building me a Big Muff from scratch. Then, I'll have money for an amp.)

- After working as a bouncer for three weeks, I feel like I can confirm my earliest suspicions: 1. I don't want to drink very often, anymore. 2. You're a moron when you drink, and it's only mostly your own fault.

- Working from 9-2:30, getting home at three, getting up at seven, working til four, getting home at four thirty, and getting up at 8 is taxing. Thankfully, I'm only doing it a few days a week.

- It is difficult to be alive.

- Cops and bouncers never think it is as funny as you do.

- Working on a poem. Shh.

8/6/10 04:21 pm - One time, I did this thing for a couple years...

And then I went home.

The End.

7/26/10 11:06 am - You know you love it.

5/21/10 02:06 pm


, originally uploaded by OmahaRoss.

Botox Injection, 4/19/10

5/8/10 02:57 am


, originally uploaded by OmahaRoss.

Sable, senior photos.

5/5/10 12:55 pm - Senior Photos


, originally uploaded by OmahaRoss.

Shot senior photos for the home health aid's kids. Whee!

5/4/10 12:20 am - new photos up


, originally uploaded by OmahaRoss.

www.flickr.com/photos/ipeekatyouintheshower

4/21/10 04:13 pm - blablablah

in the middle of all the shit that's going wrong:

http://www.thenervousbreakdown.com/rhickerson/2010/04/a-succession-of-birthdays/

Another poem up at The Nervous Breakdown.

Whee!

4/5/10 07:30 pm - Bunny BW


Bunny BW, originally uploaded by rhickerson7.

Something like that, yes.

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