Different Kinds Of Nowhere

I’ve wasted time
throwing rocks at empty train cars,
but really that would be worth more
than all the hours I spent twitching
over HD moving colors.

Either way the breakfast the next day
was always heavy,
and my heart was like a cinder block
with a clock buried inside it
when they shaped it.

Every time I cracked my head open
they reshaped it using staples and
a snow globe as a reference for the outline.
The issue was that nothing’s that symmetrical.

I broke a gargoyle some lady kept
in her garden with a dented metal bat
and it exploded into bleeding piles
everywhere.

I listened to music as I walked around
spinning the bat in my right hand
ever so often as I hummed along
and casted shadow after shadow
under the streetlights.

When I came home covered in blood
my parents wouldn’t let me sleep until
I told them who I hurt.

I knew they never could believe me,
so ran off with the car keys
and drove the wagon
through the garage door
while they chased me screaming
almost to the highway.

I didn’t know where I was going
but when the city lights all disappeared
behind me I shut the engine off
and sat there in the dark
with endless headlights
flying past me,
on their pilgrimage
to different kinds of nowhere.