i hope,
he says to me, in a dream (i'll call him a fool)
that i am never missing.
i hope they call my family, they tell them
i have died, and they're allowed to mourn.
i hope
there are no amber alerts, nor
news reports delivered by
orators who don't truly care.
he looks at me like i'm god and i say
i'll go missing for you
i'll call my family and tell them not to miss me,
and if they want to mourn,
give all my possessions to the dog and sit by
my fathers grave.
i hope the news reporters talk about me
in a half discontented voice,
and the old people say,
" oh, poor thing "
and i hope you're missing with me.
he tells me he doesn't exist and i call him god
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...
