I usually begin these rants with a question.
But i find myself lacking in just this instance.
For whom can say.
Anything more
When ash refuses to respond.
No message can be relayed.
Just more things that i silently promise.
As i figuratively toast to a memory that will never do you justice.
Is it disrespectful to take words so literal.
To the point.
That looking down gun barrels and beer bottles.
Turned into a ****** routine that pride would boast.
Only there was no smile in my smile.
Inhaling disappointment.
As the years of missed visits and substance abuse.
Led me here.
At your deathbed.
wishing my words could reach beyond.
Without worry of a certain spectres blade in my shadow.
Then somehow.
I made my word.
The only thing worth asking about.
Because allowing the past to weave around the last routine we shared.
Would force everything that i have come to embody.  
To null
Et fin.
But no.
Your gift was ever changing.
Trading a jack for skills.
While masking scars that only those with them would know of.
And in the darkest moments did i find a crystal.
Clear.
Resolve.
To struggle onward.
Tears wont spell the revisions we seek.
and i was taught to always look my best, no matter the destination.
Everything that i am.
Came from you.
It didn't come from a book nor a Professor.
I can only hope to pass on your wisdom.
Although cryptic at times.
Will remain in my heart.
So even though I will forever be thinking of a new metaphor.
A penny will sit in my pocket.
Until the day that I can place it in your palm.

Your hand in mine
Looked so small,
Fragile
Like your body on the borrowed bed
In our living room
The oxygen tank became the white noise
As my brother and I shared shifts
Of intently watching your chest rise and fall
(Or
Not.)
I'll never be able to shake
The final image in my mind
Watching you slip away
And the final goodbye
Was so quiet
I almost stopped breathing with you.

I see this birth as death
Memories pierce our grief once again
Your desire
My prayer
Small lights turn the city to blood
How scarcely we envied the sea
Trembling senses make us look further
Find my compassions worth
You speak of leaving
Only the dead escape this torture
And we are still much alive, my love