carry me home

or out past this wasteland of
churches & bars, past the trailer
parks & burning flags to these
sunlit barren fields

to the rivers of rusted metal and
the murdered children who
sleep there and,
for you,
i will build a house
without windows,
without doors

i will stand in the thin
shadows of whispered prayers
with my faded chrome heart and
my permafrost smile and i
will not be a dog who
learns from the past

i will let you hold my head
while i puke up the poison

will do the same for you

and we are not monsters here
or at least that’s what we
tell ourselves and
there will come a day when i
no longer have any
use for you

there will come a day when i
feel only joy as i wipe
your name from the pages of
every history book

this is exactly the type of
god i was born to be