buried

i had
mud
on my face
ashes
on my jeans
tears
in my eyes
blisters
on my palms
from gripping tight
to moral insecurity
as i
buried my heroes
in the cold
high ground.

climbing out
from the footsteps of giants
is a great way
to work your core
decimating values
in the rains of
crystalline apprehension.

i won’t stop
until the unmarked graves
cover
every inch
of my denials.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s