the horses run behind my ears,
digging hooves into my neck,
they travel across my collarbones- the plains
i step on the underbrush, it sounds like the
crack of bones, oh and
leaning on abandoned troughs,
eurus whispers in my ear,
he says that i am home, that
on the hay of the west, i shall
find the questions of the bones,
he says the horses seek me out,
pegasus shall find me, make an
adventure out of me yet,
oh, whispers of god, do you think i am worthy
for feathers and bones and
painted horses
bloodied hands draw it towards myself,
golden skies tear me apart and
hazel eyes push me ever closer to where
i need to be.
YOU ARE READING
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...
