170 miles and two and a half hours
We'd drive into nothingness passing military graveyards and werewolf houses
That felt more functional than most homes
I dreaded going back to it every summer
Like a corroding car battery the town somehow got worse with each year that passed
If you weren't dealing, going to the casino, or church you were the local albatross
Like every dead fish that washed up onto the long drawn out shorelines
You felt yourself drowning yourself
A fish out of water
A brain dead outcast
The church brings singing voices
Rushing persecution
Where god will save your soul and radiate dying tones
Alienate every group that differs from the crosses views
Wash away sins with water and start anew
When a child first opened their eyes it was the only unique thought that kid would ever have
A plan to go down a path laid out in rosaries, candles, and robes
Despised for any reason that robe could find
Because what could a free thinking mind really bring the collar
No pride to be defined
Muscle memory
Broken scenery
Kneel before the rushing persecution of the stained glass
Glaring stares from the pews and pewter sunken eyes
A story book from Sunday school to a wooden box
Over powering any will and moral compass that has driven you
Recycled sins that no Hail Mary could ever fix
Revisiting ghosts in legion halls with cocktail buns and fried fish
Only memory you tend to keep of your dying last name
Saying hazy goodbyes to a family you never known
Giving greetings to a past life you never cared to know
A Past life you keep holding onto
And I hope that the blinding descent will leave pure minds to grow