Thursday, September 2

The blood in my veins is beginning to sneak
and seep away from my body.
It wants to slip through the day
and walk away from my mistakes and folly’s.
My blood, in black and blue and purple and red
drips onto a crinkled and torn, faded and forlorn
map of the world.
It follows roads to the gravestones of the living and beds of the dead.
It trickles into rivers,
into cracks in the earth’s crust.
It follows my footsteps back home.
It turns my past into dust.
I’ve tattooed my back with an American flag,
the colors running together in a black hole of pride.
I’ve tattooed my mind with dreams this nation:
the coastlines, the cities, the mountains, the countryside.

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