Every morning I would hear the metal wheels grind against the rails as the garage door opened
Leave for school as you were under the hood staring at horse power repairing every engine that was broken

Returned home and now you’re underneath a different car, your face blackened from the dirt, oil and debris
And at night sometimes I’d hold the flashlight for you, pointing the light at the wrong spots of the engine, I’d help to some degree

Rarely spoke but wrenches clanked, ratchets ticked, screws and bolts rattled and power tools revved
It’s the language that I never understood but it’s the language I know you’ve said

The garage doors would close, I’d smell the scent of Mary Jane coming from your room, swear the odor was limitless
Then I would hear the rifts and solos from the guitar strings that were plucked by your fingertips

Life as a grease monkey and a rockstar but you loved every second of it, you love everything you do
I wish one day I could find my own love and become something just like you

I see why my mother loves you

You called me your son though we’re not blood I swear I miss you in every way
You’ve always told me to look out for my sister and to protect her everyday

Happy birthday

I know our garden isn’t green anymore dad, but I will always cling onto your roots;
my roots - the sweetness of bamboos,
and the flavour of cupcakes. My roots;
hazy with summery sunlight, blushing with your protective smile.

You have taught me dad,
the purity of kindness in a faithless chapel;
you have showed me dad,
the colour of ripeness in a rotten basket of apples.

And even though it hurts the most to say I love you, I always will. In stolen moon light I sit writing something of hope and what could be happiness. My words are broken like my heart, my mind is cold like December. In fallen leaves I found love on an October evening in the middle of no where reading books of fairytales that never seemed to come true. I wrote Dad at the top of a paper I hoped to finish writing but, in reality I  don’t even know where to start. Where do I begin when love has no ending, where do I begin when once what was love is gone...

A videogame told me to be a dictator,
A great warrior.
Reality wanted me to be a great thinker,
A doer,
Someone who's not afraid
Of the shadows of a lamp.
Mother told me to clean my room
And get a woman
Who's nice,
Like her
Towards her.
Father told me nothing
As I waited for my brother;
When he hated all,
Dad saw me
Too late.
The tv told me many things
And here I was,
Like the beans of all flavors,
Said Harry.
Compared to his life
Mine is a trip.

nicotine
or weed
or both
in my dad's bathroom.
on his second wife, thousandth girlfriend and fourth kid.

four kids
all with different moms
makes for an interesting bunch
if you have the patience for them.

although

i would not call
two holes in our apartment wall
and sore knuckles
patience.
but
to each
their own
i guess.

it must've taken some patience
to drive to vegas
marry a girl
you'd known for 4 months.
attachment issues?
on a seven year old me?
hahahahahahahahaha

stepmom #2? #8?
faces blend together
names turn into
michelledominiquetatijillzhaoaletia

on your good days
of type one diabetic balance
and anarchy signs in the kitchen
i love you

but on your bad days
i love you to death

I was your dream,
But you shouldn’t have fallen asleep.

In the skeletal remains of the night
an echoing whimper of a frightening cry

"Daddy, there's monsters where there's no light."

I join under the covers and hum a soft lullaby

Daddy is here to protect
of all that haunts in the night
no cranny left unchecked
no monster left to fright

Sobbing, you moved your tiny body closer
threw your little arm around
laid your head on my shoulder
"Thank you daddy"
was your final sound

Eyes finally closed
breathing finally slowed
embraced and composed
your dream I borrowed.

There was no evil in the eyes of the man that smiled at me in the dairy section when I was little.
There was no evil in the eyes of the drunken man that tried to talk to me at the bus stop the other day.
There was no evil in the eyes of the construction worker who gazed upon my bare legs for a little too long one summer morning.

But there was evil in your eyes.