We’re Here (and we’re also there, and we always have been)

You call it a foreign substance
As if it weren’t running in this blood call your own
And you see it glittering across the earth
But not in the shadows of your own backyard

But can you remember
When they sold you those fears to wear as your own?
Can hardly blame you–I’ve slurped up their sweet talk myself
(But it could never wash out this blood)



You were my rock, in that I felt you poking around between my toes longer than I could ignore, so I had to take you out.

You were my rock that I kept kicking down the road, until I got bored.

You were my rock, in that I was silly enough to think I could just paint a smiling face on you and call you my pet.

You were my rock, and I wanted a collection.

You were my rock, in that I looked at you and saw the work of art you would be once I chipped away the extra parts.

You were my rock, but I wasn’t much of a sculptor.