I
am
nothing
like
my
dad.

It's so quiet.
The kind of
quiet
that
kills.

Not a familiar heart
for hundreds of miles.

And my heart
runs up and down
the aisles of you

searching...
searching...

out on the lost highways
of our path
into the unknown.

I'm still
just a little
boy
wondering,
"What happened?"

When you can't
carry the weight
how much
can whiskey hold?

My brilliant past
has constricted down
from a vibrant family life
full of
love
smiles
hugs
support
memories
unconditional

down to a bare leftover remnant
of all that was.

And my tears over this
and my cries of

"I want my family back!"

into the black

mean nothing
miles away
from what doesn't even exist
anymore.

What do you do
when the person
who is
your heart,
dies?

How do you love the right way?
How do you trust the right way?
How do you accept the right way?
How do you?

How
do
you?

The Pull of Death
has many names:

Jim
Dad
Woody
Papa
Randy
Arkeem
Noni
Lexi
Tim