The child in me asks
Will we ever find passion
She had big dreams
and was determined to aim for them.

The adult me feels sad
She doesn't know what to say
How do you explain pain,
How do you explain disappointment?

I hold my child against my chest,
The place he loves to sleep the best.

I feel the rhythm of his breathing,
A little moment with so much meaning.

Full of nourishment from my breast,
Satisfied and content to simply rest.

My arms surround him holding him snug,
Safe and secure inside my hug.

These moments limitless in their worth,
Little pieces of heaven here on earth.

Writing,
Drawing and painting.
Woodworking,
Welding and making.
Circuitry,
Electronics and more.
Pneumatic, mechanic, IC chips galore.

***** in the veins,
skewed and torn.
Hangovers battled, and seemingly won...
...as the body grows numb...
...limbs waking in hazy hum.

Roll another,
Tobacco makes its mark—
Lungs defiled,
Body failing,
Cherries burn brightest in the dark.

Lets call some lucky,
That they knew from the start,
Yet I continued hoping,
He would come back and restart.

The years draw on,
The day the pickup drove away,
I screamed for him,
Did he hear? check the review mirror and then accelerate?

Children of my own, a wife, and a home.

5150,
It's waiting....
It's ready, patiently prone.

Context needed,
Needed for concepts to churn
Listen closely.
A decibel past a whisper —
A Truth heard from the urn.

The box in which I lay is glass
Walls adorned with paper flowers
Fragility is fragrant and congests the space
That which I inhabit and all that exists
A projector plays across the room
Our fondest, our darkest, our forever unknowns
What can you see from where you are?
Do you feel my anguish, how I slowly crack inside?
I hear a tune playing, pleasant and warm
A familiarity I can’t place but that I welcome nonetheless
Sadness permeates as I finally recognize the twinkle of your laugh, a sound frozen in time
How am I meant to go through life without you here?
I feel you in my soul, in my heart, and you survive in my mind
How can I reconcile the things you will never see, the older you that you can never be?
The walls begin to break, my cruelest mirror
I would give anything to be near you again, hold you dear
I will live the rest of my days aching for you and wishing someone understood
How nothing will ever be the same
Now that you’re gone

He looks in the mirror, distraught. Is he...getting old?

Because it felt like only yesterday he was chasing the woman of his dreams and fawning over his little girl.

He hasn't felt like himself in a long time, the mental illness drowning his thoughts of truth and reality, blinding his minds eye.

Some days he doesn't surface from the rolls of waves pulling him under, some days he flies higher than any kite in the sky because this is his reality.

He is bipolar. He is desperate. He is alone and the fear of growing older slowly gnaws at his insides.

He misses the way things used to be, the world is but a confusing shell of what it once was...much like himself.

He clings to memories of a happier past, a brighter time when the future didn't look so bleak and the kiss of death didn't seem to be pulling him in closer with every breath he takes.

He longs for love like most rugged men do, and yet he finds only a small portion of the comfort he once had in her arms.

He longs for a life filled with success, where he doesn't have to worry anymore, where he can finally fill that hole that has been empty since the dawn of his existence.

Some days he longs for the waves to pull him under, to fall asleep one last time and leave nothing behind except a life lived of regret and a world in which he no longer fits in.

And yet when he wakes up each morning, a look of disappointment crosses his face as he realizes another day trudges on.

This is the story of my father and the man he grew to be, or maybe the man he always was. His story is not yet completed, his chapter not yet closed and like it or not,

I am his sequel.