death met me on a gravel road once.
he looked at my bleeding face
and said
i wasn't made to die.
and i tried to respond
but my mouth was full of blood
death told me
that his grasp would be a step away
at every corner i went around
and with dirt and stone in the cuts on my face,
i knew he wasn't lying
death said he loved me once,
when i was standing in the middle of dirt road,
skin covered in blood,
eyes filled with tears,
and a scream on my tongue.
death said i would dance with him
until the day his claws dug into my skin,
and i succumb to the pain.
i talked to death at the bottom of the creek
i used to swim in as a kid.
with my lungs
full of water
and my eyes burning from gods know what.
there were fish,
that swam around us,
as if we didn't exist
and death took my hand,
and danced with me,
at the bottom
of the creek.
and i think i remember
the way his hand felt
wrinkled and dirty.
i am drawn to that river,
even now,
as if it can drown
the fate i behold,
like it tried to drown me,
so so long ago.
-icarus
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an idiots guide to life; how to survive the badlands of wyoming
Poetrythe slightly deranged ramblings of a teenage trans guy living in wyoming there's no overarching theme but there sure is a lot of dogs, horses, and god(s) . i do not know what i am talking about 97% of the time mostly posted chronologically in order...
