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"You're just like him"
she said to me once.

"Yes, I am"
I shouted back.

but then why is it
that you bared me?

was it, nine months?
or no, it was less...
because you did not
want to be in the hospital during christmas.

But you are right.

I am my father's child.

Not that we were attached at the hip,
it's just that we are very much alike.

I am my father's child.
a drunken child.
temperamental child.

In more ways than one,
I am my father's child.

But deceiving you,

in that way...

I'll never be his.
Today, I recall:
the days when we were kids
and we used to drink from the sky
and they told us the tales about the man
who lives in the field with his gun.

They lied.

Remember how we drank from the sky?
Remember how we licked the sun?

But their tales were false.

the man didn't live in a field.
he lived so close to home.
he lived in my home.

with his rifle for a tongue.

and, he shot my trust to the floor.
with seven words
in my seventh year.

He shot everything I would ever know
and feel about trust
straight down to the floor.
(with seven words)

a simple concept splitting my life
in three.

But yet, we remained as


Maybe today,
or tomorrow,
perhaps, the day after that,

this concept will make sense to me.

Maybe when somebody says a heartfelt
"I do"
and not lend their rib cage to a ***** to rest on,

this concept will make sense to me.

Right now,
all it is, is just another gospel.
you are now connected at 4mbps.
heart beats at 4beats per second.

connecting for…
social networks
for social interaction.

names. nicknames. pseudonyms
all over the screen.

outbox. inbox.
feelings box.
boxed and botched.

attracted to an idea
a person living inside my computer screen

in my inbox.

are you sure you want to replace this file?

i’m forgetting about you.
you with the flesh
and the warm blood.
and the beating heart.

this signal is poor.
i’ve been disconnected.

we’re disconnected.
hi there,
i recently got lost in the four chambers
inside of your chest
and my god
what a mess it is that she has


this will be a tough act to follow...
but i kind of prefer you like this
insert the dagger
and twist
it's a tough act to follow...
i hate to lose
and i to fail
i strive to succeed,
even if it's for my own selfish gain

(pity she never knew this)

this is a tough act to follow.

so that's how you got here
split open
and bleeding
just so i could clean
the ******* mess
she left
she sure was a tough act to follow.
"thank you"

"do accept?"
I decline.

late at night
I curse my senses.

and I dream about
how wonderful
I would look
as a window ornament.
on this day
every year
i count the seasons
since you disappeared
(it's 22 today, just like my age)

and i still see you everywhere
they think i'm silly

i remember today
(seven years ago)
like it was just the other day
from sleeping to dreaming
to hoping that it was just a dream
and then pretending like it was

but the words
from the voice on the other side of the telephone
"our deepest condolences"
started to make it real
i didn't want it to be
so i carried on and went to school
and wrote a biology test to pretend it was not
(the ***** made it count for my year end mark)

i couldn't pretend hard enough.
you were gone.

but it's only your skin
and your bones
your hips and your toes
your eyes and your smile
your big hands and your silly old man style
those are the things that all disappeared

your heart
and your dreams
your fears and your screams
your guidance and love
your temper and your laugh
still lives on in my heart

a daughter and her father
are always just a few heartbeats apart
(no matter what)

and i hope you are proud of me
like i am of you
for smiling
while screaming
with with everything you went through

** for tonie muller
father, fighter, brother, hero.
12.11.54 - 21.02.03
Your routine is so divine
I have it memorized
You have me mesmerized

how i've longed for
my tainted skin
it keeps me breathing
and stops you
from getting in
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