How much did my heart end up bidding for?
That day when you auctioned the final valve out;
How many times did I have to beg you to stop?
Before you even realized what I was begging about.
And, when the snow fell in around your barricaded world ;
and no one else cared to come dig for your face…
that final shot – the one that stole your last sane thought –
must’ve come to you just as I set fire to my own face.
I still find your child-like, crumpled pieces of note;
an ocean of lies with each word that you wrote;
I still scream teardrop stains that streak down both cheeks;
Alone and afraid to swim through the bullshit you speak.
The doctors say the fragments of your blade is almost gone;
my back will heal up and they’ll sew my wings back on…
so that I can take flight just one very last time –
in order to die with a grip on what’s mine.
I now know without even the slightest tinge of doubt which one of the little punks he is; how can I say this with such certainty, you wonder?…
It was like a little pick-me-up from one of the Gods or something: on Friday morning the kicker happened that added to my already strong suspicions of the culprit; and it came the sugary form good ol’ fashioned betrayal. The mother of a friend belonging to the little fuckhead who continues to mess with car (and anything in it, if he catches me slippin’ with my windows down) stopped by asking for some pomegranates at random; her teenager son in tow to carry whatever score she might leave with. During our backyard excursion, he totally gave up his best friend since second grade as being the ONE who is guilty of the ongoing blood-feud saga between the owner of the silver Passat and his buddy (likely thinking the car belonged to the neighbor of whom his mother and I were exchanging 12-point-turn horror stories about).
Now, these little scabs have always the audacity to knock on my door every year at Halloween with a huge group of the local mosh-pit/dropout/stoner/skateboarders in tow, despite their never-decreasing ages – and they are smart-asses and talk shit to me if I happen to answer the door, opposed to one of my male roommates opening it…me being me, of course, has NEVER made the situation any easier or left a even semi-palatable taste in any of their teenage dirt-bag mouths, no doubt.
“Wow, there’s a full-blown mob of you guys out there…how many of you are there?”
“Uhhhhh…we don’t know…heheheheheh…..”
None of yous can count that high can you…?”
I mean, they are just a bunch of kids – especially late blooming kids, apparently…but the absolute silence that followed their obnoxious sized group from my doorway and down the drive into the darkness last night – was unprecedented. 🙂
Broken sockets in both of his eyes
While you undoubtedly stood right by
Beaten to bits with his own Maglite
How do you live with such oversight?
The last standing of your Champions
The only one left to allow you back in
And this is your reward to him
While his eyes may never see again.
And the last things they saw were certainly
Your friends taking off with his phone and money
As you had the nerve to play your victimology
He laid alone, bleeding out in the street
I can honestly and openly say
That I didn’t raise you to turn out this way
Your drama comes through like a tidal wave
And hurts the ones whose blood is the same
I will stand up with my heels both dug in
Stand the ground that surrounds my closest kin
There’s no way in Hell or in Heaven
That you’ll get a chance to hurt him again
Say what you will to shift the blame
I can see only your complete lack of shame
and it spits the fuel at my furious flame
an X shines through the mark of your name
But, I now also see the truth behind so many things
I can no longer give any excuse, force-fed your identity
a hideous and inexcusable, vicious non-human being
the monster survives and thrives in my own offspring