319/365 B's Workshop 3

I am from God's home

I am from minus clouds
plus sunshine.

I am from disagreements,
mother's tears,
mother's attic.

I am from lighthouse,
fire,
blazing until fire burn out
the place you call home.

I am from red, white and blue lights,
from quiet,
from suburban meets sub-urban
from tumbleweed cities
and grassland green.

I am from do too little
say too much
do too little
lost hazel eyes
in thunderous clouds
all the more soft in person.

I am from racing dragonflies
slowing to a butterflies wing
slashing snakes
catching grasshoppers
smashing red bugs,
rolling polleys
and that red light that keeps flashing
in the corner of your eye.

That ticking bomb
turned out to be car alarms
empty space,
turned out to be mother's eye
white sheet
turned out to be blood stained
long legs
turned out to rip me.

There are few things in this world you get used to coming from,
So used to being.

I am pink bike
I am pink shorts
the neighbor realized matched my bike.
I am wind blown button ups
other poets
and their ideals.

I am the result of everything I've seen.
Everything I come form.