I used to lay in the forest
staring through the trees
listening to them creak
and strain in the wind
and pretend I was 
in the northwest 
not this place 
with the history
that I didn’t want
with the people
that didn’t want me
who played along
and it left the food
tasting sour 
and I love you
was like licking
the inside of a 
metal can of sauerkraut

but here I am
still finding places
to look up
and wishing 
I would
have burned
all that history
a long time ago
maybe those people
that I’ve ruined
on running
wouldn’t carry
that scent of 
death and fear
that seemed to 
permeate 
that 
hollow