i want to write about leaving home
how it feels to not know where the grocery store is
how it feels to try and convince the people around you
that you're not crazy
before they find out for themselves that you probably are.

everytime i try to write about leaving home
all i do is think of home.

a place that tried to **** me.
a place i could have been a better grandson.
a place that feels warm in my mind
but cold on my skin.

can i really blame the riverbed
and that old rope swing
for taking away the only thing
i ever really loved.
maybe we could have found
some other way to get there.
we were too young to know better.