I grew up five years after breath gave me life.
        I still pray each day that it is 1995
I'd be adequate now
         and whole
I wouldn't have wasted my heart in their         searing cesspools
Incessant uttered pleas, marks that derange the page
Can't harbor the release my contorted heart craves

I wish just now I’d spoken the worst
    I’m so sorry to say that the pain only got worse

I’m angry with the people who diseased my brain
I’m angry with myself for being weaker than the pain

Fievel goes West
Picture me
A wee mouse
lofting my parcels
in a handkerchief
tied to a walking stick
Bringing so little
and gaining so much
I can't wait to lay
eyes on my anchor
of stars
Across these states
In a new place
so novel, so far