We sit across from one another, the table
a vast road block that my younger self is afraid to cross.
Tension is splayed out between us like an elephant in the room
and it pins itself down, heavy
on my chest.
I watch as a nother pill sends you sailing, you're worse off,
but I too am just as lost.
Just as you merely fall off your chair,
we all begin to plummet with you.
Take another, you'll fail to pay a bill,
just one more and you're on the kitchen floor.
You don't see me, but maybe you never had,
I've lost what you should be to us and
you're not the man I thought you could be.

I remember taking long rides,
trips to great beyonds,
heat exaggerated by tightly closed car windows
so bad we'd turn on the A/C.
We would go, the five of us, to play in the sun,
to enjoy the rain fall, to be young.

My youth ended at the hands of your stupid mistakes.
I remember being the one who didn't have to care,
just being cared for was enough.
I think back to the days where you were actually here
not just something I could watch from across a table
as I wonder when you'll begin supper or if you wonder.
I wonder if you remember how to walk in your state.

Mother is always worried now, as
gasoline stops running through the veins of this weak house.
There's another notice on the door
but only few things matter to you now.

I remember everything from these days so ******* well
and I hate myself for all of it. But,
I hate you more so.
I trusted you'd get better, I felt bad for you!
And I landed on my *** at the sweet age of 15.

The tension in our house, rose like an angry beast,
as two months past and you left bread on the table,
we still hadn't seen your face
you knew we didn't want you, I didn't know we didn't need you.
I was such a fool to have such stupid beliefs
I hated that you held nothing, walked away with nothing.

Now years roll past us,
changing seasons, graduations
my life has changed so greatly
I haven't needed you,
and I guess you didn't need any of us,
because there hasn't been a call or a visit,
not even a sign that you're still alive.
And I can't tell if it hurts anymore.

Born into a world,

lavish with wonder,

brimming with dread.

Innocent eyes unclosed,

for the first time,

lights and color,

consume their mind.



When do those eyes,

lose their innocence,

become eyes of anger,

eyes of hate,

eyes that see too much?

They soon lose interest,

everything eventually goes

unseen.



Eyes of sorrow,

unfolding the past,

displaying the hurt.

Show me those innocent eyes,

that now seeming so distant,

I have only memory,

of those innocent eyes.

White pages stare back
mockingly, as night,
surrounds me.
I should sleep,
let the somber room,
take over for just a minute.
With the pen in my hand,
I struggle to think of words
that express, words
that become an extension
of who I am.
That pen once fit the mold
of my hand, now
lays limp as torture of a fallen
idea pushes down upon it.
Somehow I have become liquid
letting white blank pages,
soak up my words.
My mind,
my being
thoughts,
they are all,
no longer a part of me.
So words, pour onto the page
like an a storm unwilling to stop for anything.
These words now crash more violently than
thunder and they cease to end.
These very words, now stare back on once
blank pages. Words that share my resentment
words, that stand alone, as the pen
drops as does my hand.
I have never been so at rest.