An apology isn't an explanation
It took me until now to get it.
It's upsetting how blind I am
to my own hypocrisy.

I've always wanted acceptance
and felt it was an essential need,
I'd break down each time
My parents couldn't apologize

They'd bring up excuse after excuse,
"It's my belief," "I'm not wrong," "this is my side..."
I hated them for this
But had my own way of doing the same thing.

Does this mean I'm the narcissist?
I'm the selfish, arrogant. awful person
I saw reflecting back at me
Through my family?

These thoughts creep up on me again and again,
They make me want to crawl under a rock,
Become dust and eventually drift away
at least in the wind I could change.

I want, you want, they want,
in want,
sludging through want,
wading shin-thigh-waist deep,
as we sink-or-swim
this ******* swamp,
with a raised chin
just above this slow loss
of living want.

I want, you want, they want
in a new normal
right state of want.

I heard the blaring wails
Of strangers playing pin the tail
On the donkey

Reminds me of a time
When we use to play
Swing the flail
At the monkey

We were young
And feeling spunky

But when the morning comes again
I’ll see you then

Today I’ll wear my positive attitude
Just for you

Till the soil in the flowerbed
Even if I’m feeling blue

I know it may seem old school
That I’m still sipping sweet vermouth

The memories flair up
And I’m returned to youth

Come upstairs
I’m on Floor 2
The one that has
A distant view

Just a couple steps away
From knowing where you are
I feel your presence fade from me
You seem so very far

The little talks
And street lamp walks
I thought would bring us closer

What was I to do?

Worry not your pretty head
None of it was true

Oh Vincent
whatever did you do
ripening fields of summer corn
and sunflowers of a brilliant hue
a shade no other eyes could see
except for God and you

i lost faith when i lost you
coffee seemed too bitter than it was
the air's dirtier than it is—
or maybe i am unknowingly suffocating

i don't know;


but, i lost faith when i lost you
reeked of nothing but sadness
known no light at the end of the tunnel
and lost me when i lost you

To rain it falls,
Gently pouring on my head.

My arms ,
Drenched in blood.

Voices ,
Come and flee.

Cold and rigid,
Like my body.

For waters,
They weep.

As do others ,
For me.

You loved to have the artsy girl
As if I were a statue to twirl
'These are her paintings and she reads so **** much'
I remember how your praise made me shy away and blush

I remember you saying I grew kind of lame
Looking for a reason I'd rather stay home and finding only my books to blame
But books were not only to fill a void the most beloved on my list of things to enjoy
And I'd rather be addicted to pages where lovers and enemies coexisted
Than watch you cancel out the darkness with any random kind of liquid

And I'd rather be the paper girl
Than to down yet another drink that in my hand I swirl
Losing its sparkle just as fast as I lose my mind
I wish I'd stayed home and simply read through the night

In one of
my many
lifetimes, when
I was a child,
my dad had a
sprawling stretch
of land in
Missouri.
He had 200
head of cattle.
We used to run
the cows we
bought at auction
through this
shoot with wooden
beams that closed
on their necks.
My stepmom took
this gun-like object
and put an orange
tag in their ear.

My brother and I used
to play with this black and
white steer.
We called him old #56
because of the number on
his tag.
We chased him, and then he
chased us.
I felt bad for
him, the tag in
his ear.
I talked to my
dad about it.
He said if the steer
ever got lost,
we could find him.
I felt good about that.
I didn't want to lose him.

One night
the following summer,
we were sitting down for
dinner.
I hadn't seen
old #56 for a while.
I asked Dad where
he was.
He didn't say anything.
We were having
t-bone steaks.

As I write this,
my black and white
kitten, Bukowski,
bites at the pen and
tries to wrestle my
wrist as it moves across
the paper.
I'm glad that he
isn't a steer.