a ******* story does no good
"illustrate the pangs of loss"
why don't you illustrate my pangs of knowing you

stories only serve to accentuate
my failures I resent it
I resent you

my father, he was good
but not
exceptionally great

poetry was his forte
and even the poems
were not that interesting.

instead of being a genius-freak
he was a freak-freak

& with a beer in his hand, he would deny that
he drank because he was afraid of life
and said he was
disgusted with people like you

he was a walking catastrophe
rather like me actually

as I grow older I'm turning into him
I wish to vanish
he will never

there is nothing more that I can do
but wait I can wait

if hell is this chair what is heaven
I wish to be free but i
have no idea what freedom is
a shadow of an idea that our
fathers fought for mistakenly

sitting down is much easier than standing
though it does not allow movement

I wish to burn the books of my panic
see me reach for the stars but come back
empty handed

my hands are stained
with the blood of my consciousness
but so are yours
and so, so much more than mine