by March 2, 2015 0 comments

Texas Wilderness
Dead against all the towns between Waco and our sacred reservoir
Never thought to teach our children all the feelings
Covered like guilt in the unexpected snow of 2014
Visions of blood against the subtle warmth of winter
Small amounts of red against
A dark universe of white matter
White like God
And sin

I am man in the universe of my being
Forbidden from the source
Bound to the gravity
Of slaves
Of the punishable
Deserving of this terror and unable to
Dream about mother and womb and secrets

Here I am

editors note:

Disconnected, daunted wake-dreamer, solitary sleeper… all. (Read more of Cheyenne’s madness on his page; a celebrated sameness and a wasted word land – check’em out.) – mh

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