Dec 2014
My dad always told us things would be alright
He kept us in the dark for our childhood
Assuming his societal role as the protector
Covering things up with the blanket of his knowledge.
That is until
My grandpa went into open season, hunting down two consecutive strokes
Loaded gun ready to fire, cocked courageously on his collarbone
But not quickly enough to beat the savage beasts to the ****.
The condition destroyed chunks of his brain
Leaving him unable to breathe or talk
Which is the first time I've seen him speechless.
As I stood next to your urn
Imagining the dust of all your accomplishments, quirks, dreams
Tucked away in a perfectly carved mahogany box
Realizing for the first time that death was imminent
But still seeing how many metaphors I could come up with for this situation
That's deflection.
When I tell you I was molested for the first time
Breaking my teeth and nails
On each and every word that cuts bone like it is bread
And explaining to you that I help other people
But sparing you the details that make my body look crumpled and sickly
That's deflection.
As I discuss situations that have my knees ****** and scraped
That turn my hazel eyes to deep grays and black
That cause my systematic jaw to clench at the thought of my eating disorder
And others must pry it open with a crowbar
Yet, I still tell them that I am over it
So I do not have to explain her constant chokehold on me
That's deflection.
Now that my Pop Pop is ill
And Daddy, I try to be direct with you
"Is he going to be okay?"
Your response is always
"Well, he's not on his deathbed."
That does not mean okay to me
My grandpa was not on his deathbed until 20 hours after his stroke
But my grandma considered him dead at that moment
6:21 PM, Monday, March 24th, 2014
That's deflection.
I use the unknown element to distract people and myself
From the crippling fear that welds my heart with fire and metal
This anxiety is hellish
And panic attacks are called attacks for a reason
Because you can never win while in the midst of one.
But still I tell myself
And my father tells me as well
"You don't know for sure yet."
"Don't make problems out of nothing."
So I discount the pain that is a cavity within my chest
Rotting my body away with every passing second.
That's decomposition
That's a parasite
That's deflection.
He kept us in the dark for our childhood
Assuming his societal role as the protector
Covering things up with the blanket of his knowledge.
That is until
My grandpa went into open season, hunting down two consecutive strokes
Loaded gun ready to fire, cocked courageously on his collarbone
But not quickly enough to beat the savage beasts to the ****.
The condition destroyed chunks of his brain
Leaving him unable to breathe or talk
Which is the first time I've seen him speechless.
As I stood next to your urn
Imagining the dust of all your accomplishments, quirks, dreams
Tucked away in a perfectly carved mahogany box
Realizing for the first time that death was imminent
But still seeing how many metaphors I could come up with for this situation
That's deflection.
When I tell you I was molested for the first time
Breaking my teeth and nails
On each and every word that cuts bone like it is bread
And explaining to you that I help other people
But sparing you the details that make my body look crumpled and sickly
That's deflection.
As I discuss situations that have my knees ****** and scraped
That turn my hazel eyes to deep grays and black
That cause my systematic jaw to clench at the thought of my eating disorder
And others must pry it open with a crowbar
Yet, I still tell them that I am over it
So I do not have to explain her constant chokehold on me
That's deflection.
Now that my Pop Pop is ill
And Daddy, I try to be direct with you
"Is he going to be okay?"
Your response is always
"Well, he's not on his deathbed."
That does not mean okay to me
My grandpa was not on his deathbed until 20 hours after his stroke
But my grandma considered him dead at that moment
6:21 PM, Monday, March 24th, 2014
That's deflection.
I use the unknown element to distract people and myself
From the crippling fear that welds my heart with fire and metal
This anxiety is hellish
And panic attacks are called attacks for a reason
Because you can never win while in the midst of one.
But still I tell myself
And my father tells me as well
"You don't know for sure yet."
"Don't make problems out of nothing."
So I discount the pain that is a cavity within my chest
Rotting my body away with every passing second.
That's decomposition
That's a parasite
That's deflection.
