My dear Father...
The **** do I say? Such a way with words, as those cracked records claim.

You thought so too though, you always did say, but how are there words for a heart torn away? A soul ripped in half and this gut wrenching pain?

How you were a hero - I've heard so many say,
You taught, you motivated,
You wiped tears away. You existed to spread love - yet felt unworthy to claim.

The demons you fought
your silence so dark,
They'd never let you see,
Just how loved you are...

True.
Deep.
Unique love.
Each one of us precious, In the Michaelest ways.

You suffered so deeply,
And what scares me the most,
That though we all suffer, you were my stone.

Our heads have such darkness, a uniqueness WE shared. Though all heads have shadows,
Ours was a PAIR

You've helped me through so much,
I couldn't describe. Your wisdom, a sculptur, has guided my life. My biggest regret, you'd never accept, that you were a catalyst, that helped me to live.

You taught me so much,
you've held me in strife,
Sitting right with me, endless yarns about life.
Or virtually advising, from far distance lands.
But the space never mattered.
Your love had no span.

I wish you could've seen, and accepted inside,
You were so special, cherished, and kind - My Godlike of a guide, and when the world caved in, I sought YOU for advice. No one will ever understand me like you. What peace I can find comes from the Truth - that our yarns WILL continue, sometime I know soon.

Your wisdom and beauty, your insights to life, you've gifted me so much, I'll cherish inside. Our bond can't be altered, I know that, not ever, for good or for bad, I am you - forever.

If time heals all wounds — I have petrified

turned to stone

can't decompose

As the night sky blooms
one by one
I watch the stars -
blossom

The earth is
jealous; I’m sinking in
I belong with
them
      the other hardened things

Dear Death, hand in
hand
you've walked me too long —
now so heavy
rotting pain
solidified

I'll watch
on this sandy dune. The
night lights sparkle
only for me; bloom in their heavenly
beauty

And as the sky is set alight - and our own star rises -
may it shine a
broken body
           Lifeless
                   if not from a warm
                            embrace

My hands
catch on the wind
drift
adding to a new dune
over yonder.
I'll smile, and the earth welcomes me - Home.

Why run?
Scream.
Abuse.
Cry.

A fool believed escape was nigh.

I love this stuff,
my dead insides.
Come on in, there’s death to find.

These vices are the pain and I,
need them to see -
sane of eye

Followed always,
steps behind.
Darkness... shadow...
reflective shine.

Stealthy...
Mr. Creeper - ready to pounce
Runs up behind, rose in his mouth.

Down on one knee, a dangling hand.
The prince, charming;
a puppet to dance.

Melodies play -
a hypnotised sway.
Lost in a second.
Missing for days.

The puppet that dances -
a miniature he.
Impossible.
Surely.
Who will believe?

The puppeteers eyes -
mine that I see.
I am the puppet,
I’m dancing; me.

Jester to most,
jailor for some.
Narcotically dancing,
self-loathings thrum.

Is this how it is?
Is this who I’ll be?
Masochistic approach -
naught to appease.

Body

In my body
where it dwells,
darkness foggy
mustn't tell.

It escapes;
as salty drops
All controlling -
will it stop?

In my body,
there’s someone else
Deep inside -
I hate myself.

To this master
I bow down
This disaster,
forever bound.

This broken body
one day I’ll leave
My own hand?
Time will see...

Soft thudding
bare feet leading astray.
“Nǐ hǎo” wave children, continue to play.
Alive! Life! Pulse of the night –
The Heart of Asia, a magnificent sight!

Engulfed by mountains
surrounding seas.
Tantalising fragrances
dance with a breeze.

This foreign land
surreal in a way
an expression of beauty!
A longing to stay.

Faintest of whispers dance with the subconscious.
Invisible strings manipulate limbs.
They believe they act on their own...

The sweetest gift is presented in silk. Bursting with rose-tinted malice.

The gift received a thousand times -
Welcomed with open arms.

Pleasing to every conceivable sense,
A shroud silently falls again.

The mistake will be realised, but not for a time.
Not simply a trick of the mind.

This powerful thing! A beautiful King.
Soon,
will meet his demise.


© Jordan Costigan.

I follow rainbow gutter rivers back to my empty downtown apartment.
When I was young, I looked up at these buildings in awe.
Shiny glass towers full of giants,
staring down at me, ant-like and enamored.
You looked beautiful in your wedding dress,
they said.

A decade spent selling disposable garbage to the masses,
rereading Ogilvy on Advertising and wearing uncomfortable shoes.
Today I’m one of those giants.
Do you still throw darts at my picture?
Do you ever think about me,
at all?

A thousand miles away, a little girl asks her mother,
to make her a cherry pie for her birthday.
She knows it’s my favorite.
If we have cherry pie, maybe he’ll come to my party,
she says.

Seven drinks later, I told my dad I was miserable.
A hollow shell of anything I’d ever planned to be.
He didn’t believe me.
After all, I had never let him down,
before.

The last time we saw one another, we ate dinner on the floor.
You smelled like you’d been on fire.
A week later, I found a strand of your hair in my bed,
and sighed.

It was nearly sunrise when I arrived,
leaving a trail of clothes all along my floor.
Lying in bed, I thought about how long ago yesterday was.
All those slow summer mornings,
and three-day goodbyes.

I stare down at the streets below,
as innocent wide-eyed dreamers shuffle their feet on cold sidewalks.
Somewhere a young boy leaves home for the first and last time,
and I think about how beautiful you still look,
in photographs.