Off-Stage.

How is that we…
are on again suddenly?
Because you’ve heard,
the word…
on the fucking street,
all about my baby,
of all things –
the only thing –
worth anything to me…
I find it infuriating,
that you found the time,
to slither your way,
into my fucked up day,
and presume to take,
any despair of mine…
before my now-grown,
daughter was gone,
you never cared to know,
what was going on;
and now,
that shit’s hit the fan,
you sad excuse,
for a man,
or as a “friend”,
don’t come here,
don’t pretend,
to see the situation,
and POOF!…
you suddenly care,
about what’s false,
or what might be true ,
and the traumas,
she’s running from –
and right back into,
get the fuck away,
from my overwhelming,
world of pain,
you’d never make it,
through a single day…
the shallows seep,
to water the deep,
and keep any,
reality at bay;
don’t talk to me today,
when you have,
nothing real to say,
no questions or inquiries,
of my daughter’s state…
no acting,
no faking,
get your ass off the stage.

8 thoughts on “Off-Stage.

  1. neighsayer says:

    Things ain’t right, and I know i ain’t right. But damnit, there is a right. I’ll know it when i see it.

    Something like that? I’m a little drunk.

    (

    Liked by 1 person

  2. neighsayer says:

    goddam I loved Deadwood . . . and now I love Ray Donovan

    Like

  3. neighsayer says:

    eat something, AI, you’re looking a little not there . . .

    Like

Go ahead...say somethin'!

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s