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Sep 2014
i) my father never taught me how to shave, so I guess
that’s why a razor to him and I are two separate entities;
a symbol of his pride yet a symbol of my sorrow.

ii) and it’s not my mother’s fault that I am the way I am,
neither is it my own. but when my wrists twitch at the hour
when I miss the way she used to smile; I blame myself.

iii) they say family is in your blood and that will never change.

iv) if so, I am related to healing wounds and the wisdom-less
circles of the trunk of a mind not made for the kind of tired
sleep can never cure. I am the father of my own mistakes
and forever the child of a forever without a beginning.

v) not even the poetry in my arteries can save me now.
Dean Eastmond
Written by
Dean Eastmond  Weymouth
(Weymouth)   
477
   Erenn, K Hanson, Pamela Rae, nancy m and r
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