REZ CARS CRASH

seems like all my life
has been just bits and pieces
of junk cars, rez cars
loud and exploding
as they pass me by
like some bad nightmare
i have to open my eyes
and everyone i know
just gives a part of themselves
a junkyard of living
and then they die
without me truly knowing them

seems like everytime
i try to fix up my life
and make it shine
i break down
and i end up
hiding inside
my family's house
where my dreams rust
and I cover it with lies

and I ignore the problems
and they become like those
junk cars
ditched in the river
and like them
i am halfway submerged
in the murky water
of this world's tired womb
abort
breech
and divert
this
contract i have made
with god?
the creator? the spirit world?
i am done
thumbing
down that highway to heaven
that has claimed so many indians

i am just shattered glass
by the side of the road
and i just want to pop
egos
because no indian can suffer
more than me
i am the epitome
of the tragic indian
with a backseat
back trunk
full of baggage
and my therapist
has broken the lock
and i have used
so many wire hangers
trying to scratch
at the afterbirth
because mom
never wanted me
because dad
never claimed me

i am a fetus
exposed
and ready to crash
and jesus
everyone on the rez
is ready to crash
implode and explode
let our deaths be as violent
as our births
and maybe when we hit
head on
we can knock through
the misconception
that we are going
to the white mans' heaven
lord, god, tunkasila(grandfather),
i am tired of stalling
and co-dependently
waiting for a ride
i just want to drive
i just want to drive
and then dive into the ditch and die