I'll Be Home Soon

slept in an abandoned car last night
safer than beneath the maple, I suppose

though, the undead now pass
almost with as much apathy

as the living did
when first I ran from that place

that place those people called my parents
called home

* * *

who knew that when first I fled to the streets
to erase that family's deeds

I was building the skills I'd need to survive
the world as it was to be

a world that could no longer suffer
the decay of neural stagnation

the day in, day out grind
of the over caffeinated, of the overrated

* * *

and though irony is often destitute
and lost on me

it is I who will be home soon
with supplies for my chosen family

it is I who will take into my arms
my love, my life

and it is we who will shape this world
as it will come to be

* * *

and as for those who once ruled
from sea to shining sea

those who now wander
from rodent to roadkill

they
will be driven and driven and driven by a hunger

they will never sate
they will never understand

Raised in Vegas then exiled to Chicago, S. T. Eleu (they, them) has been a musician, teacher, and consummate Vulcan. Autism is their default universe, and though sparsely populated, is a glorious place to escape to, write in, and display an impressive collection of action figures.

Find more by S. T. Eleu in the Author Index.

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