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kfaye Mar 2016
but remember
every hero is somebody else's scumbag
and if that were good enough. we'd be home
and yet
twisting me,
greedy-
bleeding like a baritone.

still,
beggars can't be choosers but killers can get you
if they want.
kfaye Mar 2016
oh my god,
this group message from 2008
between my now girlfriend,
the other girl that was very interested me at the time (the first to wear my sweatshirts- the one i thought more likely at the time),
and many others i already begin to forget.
  
i know now,
more than ever
that i really am going to die
someday.
kfaye Mar 2016
i don't want to be
sensitive
anymore- or cool
for that mater. art is better off left to the dying

(hence the beard and the ugly coat)
kfaye Mar 2016
i don't know that i've ever said i love you to my father in my adult life just as he had told me once or twice a long time ago:
that he had not, to his father, until the literal death bed.
i hold no hatred
wasn't mistreated overmuch as a child or anything
my childhood was happy. though that might have proven the worst thing for me in how late i've been able to break from the ignorance and comfort of many things.

i know i was an arrogant little ****.
but i might have deserved some of the pride, certainly not all of it
much of it i have abandoned, perhaps, by becoming less like him.
he has always provided well
tried to support many endeavors as full as he could
even if he did not understand fully

often, maybe lived vicariously in things like the guitars that he probably wished he had been able to play.
i know the music he liked.
he is a leader.
in many ways.
my father always had a need for clear, masculine objectivity.
i've found it hard to communicate things of nuance to him.
there has always got to be a bad guy.

often we have really got along.
we've done things together many times.
helped each other.
share interests.
skills.
abilities.
stature (in some ways).

he often told me he loved me
dropping me off somewhere: school, even into college
i didn't know how to say it back.
i can tell that he was actively trying to correct a greatest regret of his life.
i knew that.
but still repeat it.
his father died about a year before i was born.
i never knew him.
when my grandmother was alive, she had often said i looked like him.
i crossed my long legs in the same way.
my father is a broader man
of stronger limb.
he provided
better
than his father.

he has a kindness in him.
he feels responsibilities for things
done what he could:
boy scout leader, (troop functionally disbanded soon after i left as far as i know )
mentor of highschool robotics team (still there even many years after i left. he might be holding on to something in the way of a need to be that kind of guiding force- and besides, my brother still goes and helps out there too)
there have been times i can almost trust in him.
but then he will do or say something
a joke about self-harm-
about a ******.
i get pulled back somewhere.

he is outgoing.
i am not by nature.
but the more outgoing i get, the less i am like him
except in the type of confidence that comes with deep voice and a large frame.

he is certainly not the worst from the type of politics he adheres to.
far from.
he recoils at much of the things that pollute or replace science in the minds of those that vote like him.
but yet there is something of the
specificity.
the patriotism.
the need to protect most, those and that which are similar-
above others.

life
is but a collection of things around a one.

i, eldest son of eldest son,
care little for precedent as a marker of worth.
and i think i can do more good
if i ever do anything at all.

i don't much care for religion and sports.
kfaye Mar 2016
i'd like you best wrapped up under the axles of my truck
but i'd rather not have to pay your brother to clean it up.
get the **** out of my home town
your driving the real estate value down.

in other words:
go back where you came from.

we don't
need that liberal faggy ****
i'm a man.
i'm a man.
i'm a man.

but i love the way my baby looks in that white summer dress caught around the warm summer air,
with flowers tangled up in her hair.
and the amber sun looks good in her eyes
i'm a man.

**** a ******, stab a ***
make my granddaddy proud.
love my baby, she's WASP like me
we're gunna start a family.
i **** her good, god gave me seed
you know i sow it as i please.
ultimately-
i'm good.

got a gun, bring it to school
always with me. i know i'm cool-
in case i need to get those sunni-shiite *****;  
shoot my teacher if i fail a test.

it's okay.i'm cowboy.
i'm good.

jesus loves me, he told me so.
******* Hey-Zeus, he mows my lawn.
-be ****** if i let them use the good bathroom  
it's all right they'll be deported soon.
and it's good.  

back in the city, jesus-  girls' ******* drop.
filthy ***** and cherries to pop.
but blondie looks good.

follow her home. i'm a really nice guy.
don't understand what made her cry.
just keep
*******
her anyways.

feminazi ******* wanna blame me
there just mad that they're ugly
jealous of my success
there all just ***** anyway.
*******.

and all those ***** livin' off the government's dime
handout *******. all of them should just die.
time to rise up
time to be
family man.
i.

oh, i'm a
good ol' boy,
i'm good.
(you know i'd **** you if i knew i could.)

but i love the way
my baby looks in that white summer dress caught up in the ******* air,
with flowers -like a promise- all in her hair.
kfaye Mar 2016
cub
the smell of hemp rope
in a storage closet.
running around church basements- irreverent of upstairs.
small fires in the parking lot to prove we could.
small ****
behind card covers inside our heads.
kfaye Mar 2016
thunder at the lake house (that never was)
and when you celebrate
self-harm
i throw-up.
but
i will ******* again tomorrow.
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