Forgiveness is a wild beast
of an exotic land.
I know it. Its shape,
color, texture and
particulars of its habitat,
yet it means nothing in my
day to day; at least nothing that
impacts the path I walk
or world I touch.

It is as distant as a polar icecap
and about as much
help as a glass shard
beneath my bare feet.
This wild beast makes noises
perhaps sour perhaps sweet
to the ear
but I do not know
nor can I name them.
Daily I set out and go
stalking after it in
my bare feet and soul ache
unable yet to find it for myself
or others, I make
my ****** way along this
un-exotic, piercing path.

It is a way I cannot abandon
but I must laugh
at the folly of my purpose
for I have long since washed
the picture of this creature
clean and thoroughly sloshed
it remains in my mind.
I am left to blame the blood
and curse its trail tracking
ever after me in the mud.

she leaves
everything
on a page,
all her sorrow,
her love
and her rage,
and I truly believe
she will write
herself free
of the jailers
who fastened
her cage.

it is those thoughts of you
that remain,  
they plague me to
the point of insanity;
still, i want nothing but    
to hear your voice and feel
your body close to mine.

you,
are my downfall.

and my words are not bound by
rhymes and other silly little things,
they are my thoughts,
raw
and scrambled.
they are my wounds that
i pick at with every word,
but they are my wounds that
heal with every sentence
the ink of my pen spits.

and i remember
how your eyes were so much
like stars;
all burnt out hope,
and dead-beat dreams.

Upon the day of my death, my last wishes are inscribed here.
I wish for Tyler Roth my closest friend, to hand down this will to whomever he sees fit, by chance I outlive him. Please had this to the next legal recipient.


They have granted me strength, enduring support, and became the mold from which I sprang from.

You, unknown to me who you are, yet it is to you that I entrust my bones and the flesh that expressed my wishes upon this world of which I can no longer call my own.

It is to you that I grant the strength of all my merits, and mistakes.
A dead mans wish, is the easiest to ignore, but with hope whatever sense of honor, respect, and pride you had in me you will not hesitate to bind yourself to the completion of this will.

To my people I give my wealth, my friends my property, my family my soul along with all its works, and to you my utmost important final desire, do not bury me!

For the love of all that is I.
Take my bones from my flesh, grind them down to powder and have them forged in a heat no lesser then the inferno in my soul!

Forge with it a tool, a weapon of the onward marching spirit!
Keep it close to you don't dare allow its blade to grow dull, its gleam to fade.
It is the embodiment of how you see not only my legacy but of what yours will become and of that to whom you will depart it upon.

Secondly take the remainder of what was once I and reduce it to a mixture of ash and dust.
Have it crystallized transmogrified in holy remembrance of what is unholy, because neither can exist Without the other.

Take it too the land of those who see value in nothing and yet still love everything.
Frame it high above covered by trees of beauty and grotesqueness so that you can only catch the light through this sprite of I on the entrances to my unnamed monument.
It will be my only way of saying hello and goodbye again.

Due this so that with the will and honor you've proven you have that you will not sit idly by saying he was a great man, or lesser things.

But that you will have no other choice but to say what have I left to accomplish of my own volition that blesses me with such honor, will, and pride as this old mans request to scatter his form.

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.

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.

I don't know how to continue —
Without knowing you.
Your goodbye
Left me a stranger
                  to this world.
The days
Are weeks.
The weeks
Are years.
The nights
Grow darker.
Each winter,
Colder.
You took my love,
My heart.
My lungs.
Hymns to the darkness.
Blood for the sun.
I wait.
I wait.
You don't explain.
Endlessly,
The daggers rain.