red reins,
red sky,
red horse-
dappled with clouds,
ears flickered towards rising smoke,
i wore a knife at my side
and my boots jingled
with the telltale sound of spurs,
fire burns around us,
the sun doesn't care,
so neither do i.
memorial after memorial,
the red horse does not know what they mean,
and so neither do i.
palm trees and sagebrush and painted horses,
none in the color of red,
and thus,
it is not seen.
red reins,
red jewels,
red saddle,
tangibility is everything-
like most unloved things,
i am not visible unless i am touched.
red sky,
red smoke,
red sun,
you looked in my eyes and told me
you don't know of love
i said all you need for love is a good horse
you said i was a liar.
red eyes,
red boots,
red heart,
beat ever so slow,
carry me along the badlands,
cry not for water but for blood.
red reins,
red sky,
red horse,
find me on the hills of wyoming,
crying my eyes out,
praying to be seen.
-icarus
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...
