To keep things simple, I'll stay outside of my mind and its overwhelming idealism that consumes everything I touch.
I'll simply dissect my vocabulary and boil my raw possibly misguided passion down for this last straw on my breaking back.

I've always thought how magnificent it would be to reveal everything that’s been drowning in my sea of anger slowly being picked apart by the sharks of alcoholism and other excuses.
But then I remember how much sweeter it is to say nothing every time you call me on the phone to say you’re sorry, and that you love me. Because it took you 20 years to realize you weren't really there, but I'm dam glad about that.
I'm dreaming of when I'm not the black sheep in the family anymore because by then I've turned every drop of sweat, blood, and whatever other ****** fluids there may be into pure gold!

If only to throw it at your feet and buy my ******* pride, dignity, respect, honor, and freedom from you and everything you represent and cram down others’ throats.
But I know I KNOW you won’t accept it... you wouldn't dare offer me that luxury.
So I thought I'd burn it right in front of you.
But the boy in me says no, find a better use or way, there is still a father in him, and the lessons he taught, you were blinded too due to your own stupidity.

He showed you respect, how to keep your spine straight when he spat in your face.
He left you plenty of space to become entirely your own being.
He taught you, that you should never turn down a man’s pure hearted generosity, it’s the easiest way to say *******.
He showed you that no matter how little you talk to someone, they will figure you out by filling in the spaces.
They will come to know a distant reflection of you.

And I watched you, collected finger prints off your unintentional ****** plans for your own soul.
All I can say that I really found out about you was that you were obsessed with a hate for your dead father and blinded by a rage to out due and condemn him in every way you could, even in the way you distanced yourself from your own wife.
I never could figure out why you two got married... was it just another business plan?
You know the sad thing is the men I respect the most in this world look up to you in some way or another.

And after all the silence I still haven't found a way to appropriately **** you off yet.
I am not worthless, I've spent an eternity trying to prove to no one that I'm not, don't you dare look at me that way either... I do it enough myself.
I've unwittingly fallen into the apparent family trap.
I just hope That the oath I swore to the devil and everyone that had more than a handful of conversations with me that I wouldn't...
That when I inevitably fail,  this ends with me.

I’m sorry for your loss, I've said it and heard it a few times, but today was the first time I caught myself saying it to a casket and a tombstone. You see to explain what I mean...

See it’s every man’s destiny to die, and the only real choices in life are how and when.
And the only times I found myself pulled to tears is when I wasn't expecting them to choose so soon.
But then again there’s plenty who don't even get that lucky.
It’s for them, that I always hear I’m sorry for your loss.
I've never seen a man terrified he'll be leaving us behind when his eyes shut and his mind drifts off into his slumber at the end of life he chose. And for me, I would die a million times over if I could just to make a point and to prove to you that you don't need to be afraid.
I’d take every bullet that ever killed someone and take the place of every baby that didn't even get a first breath.
But it wouldn't eliminate death from the world only give it a face. Which I suppose... is my point.

Things shrouded in the dark that occasionally give you Goosebumps and creak in the night.
…
Those kinda things, once you see them they're no longer terrifying.
All be it, some still frightful, you now have the ability to understand them, so what about the blind?

You always told me to stop it when I told you about when I die, because it was never easy to hear that I needed to go first.
And I guess what really gets me is that you beat me to it.
And I find myself trying not to smile when I see your pictures, because it reminds me that I miss you.
I never really thought about how happy you must have been that moment, the moment we lost you, it must have been amazing finally being able to open your eyes and see.
The darkness could never frighten you and that’s why I needed to go first.

But now that you’re gone, I'm so relieved that you can see my face.
So when I said I’m sorry for your loss today I, think I meant I’m glad your home, I can’t wait to join you.
But I still got some work to do so please enjoy the show that you've been missing out on, I’m trying my hardest now to pour myself into every scene hoping that it makes up for the lost episodes.

The point is people.
although I'm run down from time to time.
I know there is no answer in some steeple,
some book.
And I'm sure I'm missing something like all the beautiful creatures out there.
But right now, with the amount of evil.
The point is people.
There is far too much to be done, so I'm not concerned with personal accomplishment, because they are repeatable, but to experience your smile your laugh. your dreams, your love! that is something I will not find anywhere else.

I don't know how long this movie is,
but I'm already late to the show and I can't be bothered to pick up the details I missed and distract someone else.
So just know, while I'm not bootlegging any of this, every time I think of you all of this will play across my screen.
And I can't think of anything else worth my time.

At least I could fight it,

I yelled this out loud last time no one was around
And to give you some frame of reference

You pull ******* from your *** to make it easier to convince yourself And others that what you did was ok

And I don’t know if I’m more disappointed in you or the fact that no
One has the moral backbone to tell you that you just **** yourself

It’s not like we can’t smell you

I’m across a crowded room and I can feel my heart crack with each step you take
And I’m not sure if it’s worse when those steps lead away or come near and stay

It’s not easy for me to allow myself to step off the track of apathy I’ve disguised as rationality, but O my god does my blood boil and time freeze whenever you come around physically or mentally.

I really don’t have anything more to say although I wish I did,
But you’d probably twist it around and around. So thank you for the anxiety, it gives me a cold reality check every time I nearly die,

But it seems no one accepts checks anymore, it makes me feel outdated, like hate in a pacifist,
I don’t do anything.

So, similar to a grain of sand in the ocean I barely can hear it scratch the bottom of my throat.

I wish I had cancer.

To the forgotten words..
You will always be loved, from the moment I wrote you thought you discovered you were inspired by you, I imparted myself unto you.
You are my greatest failing, but it's not your fault.
As Lao Tzu once thought and successfully verbalized:

"If you are depressed you are living in the past if you are anxious you are living in the future. If you are at peace, you are living in the present."

You are because verbalization cannot adequately paint these things out so that they are recognizable, and of course my own neglect to nurture you.

You are beautiful, an elegant dance always retracing its own steps trying to find its name, its place on the stage of my tongue, you are bold and explosive, capable of crumbling the walls I've built.
But you are lost in line and the final contestants have already been chosen for this season.

You are forgotten, romanticized to ensure myself you were once worth it, but then wouldn't I remember you?
Wouldn't your name slip out under the covers of another's passionate explorations?
People often struggle to find something spectacular, constantly climbing mountains never looking anywhere but at the peak where the sun sits.
And although the view is gorgeous you may be blind by the time you get there.

Often we forget that before there was anything, a light to chase, glory for that matter, there was darkness.
An utter emptiness, which is now where you reside, and I've been to blinded by the light to go bumping around in that night to find you.

You, are not always wise, but you were mostly honest, although misguided from what I hear of you these days.
I do miss you, so if perhaps your rehearsals over.
The stage is set, and I've got my hands locked steady praying for your return, ready to burst into applause at the miracle of your existence.

I find it difficult
To enjoy free time
I know I should know better
To do better
Work wise, play hard
I find it difficult to talk
Without numbers and facts
I dont always act like
Im stressed out,
But free time pushes me over
Over time

This suspicion is such a foul contradiction

And my addictions there's no prescriptions

This tradition is just a competition

And my disposition has begun its demolition

This prediction is of extinction

Where is it you've gone I can't follow?

Can't tell you how many times I've been looking for something new.
Something better than this shade of blue I see through.

But you've got me pictured all wrong.
I'm more than just the chipping paint on the brush scraping the canvas.
I guess I'm in no rush to clean up.

Where is it you've gone I can't follow?

If I thought that by being that role in your life I could lift you up on my shoulders high enough to reach the apple of your eye on the tree of dreams you're reaching for, I would.

But I'm too busy digging for gold, and at best I'll bury us both.
At worst I'll dig up the tree and muddy the family well.

So please, when you ask, know I couldn't love you more.

Even after the match is burned up.

The fires it lit still rage on.

Setting Sail was never so easy.
Just the sky and I, and a passenger who may be queasy.

The sun should soon set, and I with it.
But the good ole girl and the wind continue to flirt
as I skirt through the airwaves.

Slowly sinking, gently, ever so gently.
As the good ole girl and I kiss the earth.

Dust off these pages.
You know acceptance comes in stages.
It's not a wave, it is a stream that trickles up your spine and branches out between.
Your chest that's caving.
And all the anger you've been saving.
O today I am a canvas in your hallway going yellow in the sun.
And when you're done with me,
O set me out to dry on your apartment balcony.
And I'll coagulate and you'll watch colors crack on fabric
And you'll love what you create
And you'll know right then that you're.
You're capable of good.

It’s back to apathy for me,
These aren't my intentions, but they are my retention's
I've wanted to live and love duty bound and nothing short of proud,
I’m loyal, willing to work, I’m honest even when you give me reason to doubt you,
I’m loving, even when you’re spiteful
I’m too willing to forgive,
But finally, I’m hateful that I can’t hate.
So I’d rather feel nothing.
If I could, but it would seem
I can’t escape.