some days i think about crying myself to sleep
between coyote calls and children's yell,
i nestled myself between hatred,
i saw the stripes on the fetlock
and put them on my hips.
i remember the way your face looked,
in pictures before you were you.
i don't remember my own face,
hazel eyed and innocent skinned,
i'll find some version of myself in
untouched leather, and
blood splattered in headphones.
i used to think
i'd spend forever with you, or at least
another day,
but now you're more of a constant buzz
in the back of my mind.
and my fingers are covered in ink, and
i know of not only brown and red,
but pink and black, and
the coyotes will always call me home.
أنت تقرأ
an idiots guide to life; how to survive the badlands of wyoming
الشعرthe 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...
