shooting horses

I’d have done been shot

if I were a horse…

or put down,

a rabid dog.

When I cry,

I cry and cry and cry

and I wish you could see inside of me

like I see…

see the mesh, the meld, the guilt and the pain

the weakness and

the bittersweet truth

that all I am

that makes me who I am

is no more or less than all you are.

The holes here

filled with the soil of excuses and explanations

do not harbor any seeds without

your sunlight shining down on me to

give them life.

No, I will not lay down

or live my life like a ghost

wipe yourself off my floor

it doesn’t matter, anyway…

I know you well enough

that you need to start again

I think i’m broken wide open

everything Ive done

disappears

from memory

oh, the sun has

dried your memories

of me

and as I take another shot

I feel the sin inside of me

burning my throat as it goes down

and remember

I’ve lost my pride

I’ve lost all hope

and I’m growing tired of standing in this corner

staring at my feet.

fire.

fire away.