Never know when you will be coming
Not sure that you ever leave
My violence I write you this letter
I kneel with bended knee
I beg you to consider my offer
To not harm them and only to harm me
But you my dear, you aren't such a gambler
You like the chizzled bricks and boiling tears
You are a subtle man
And I don't understand
Who, what or which thing brought you here
I hear the jingle on your swollen ankle
It’s timbre smells like berries in the mud
I hear it even when the moon is slanted
But I simply can't anticipate it's thud
I think the thoughts
They move rapidly and procreate
They dance just like your thoughts do
They lower anchors in the salty mud
But they only get expressed every so often
And it's getting crowded in here
I have created a facebook account.
I want to connect with all of you.
Please find and add me.
Thanks for all of the continuous support.
Yes I do enjoy vacations
Just as any blight baker would
The snakeskin sunset is beautiful
But you already knew that didn't you?
I’ll catch you by the canal path
And we can talk and walk
And as we move downstream you will begin to cry
And I will walk away
Yes I would like a vacation, but the thought of going back home hurts me deep down
The air shivers near my sweat wet skin
Mind mammoth milkdud matter
Bird dust bath blues
Thoughts wrinkled like raisins
Big butter bloody body
Hairnet who said that?
Shallow scalpel brittle baker
Kool aid potluck brisket sandstorm
Centennial ant dorm
Juggle flooding carrot blankets
Neon magma porcelin lie
Snag me down by the seaside
Sadness is carried on waves.
It can move through air, through cloth, through skin.
It sits upon the forehead of strangers.
It rests between each blinking eye.
I can see your sadness long after the birthday candles are blown out,
In each hollowed cloud,
In each blossoming flower,
In each swolen lip it rests.
Your sadness surrounds your silhouette,
Like bark around a tree trunk.
Four years old and the static tin world can only seem serene in your arms.
Eight years old and the blaring satellite scraping sounds swell to a calm hiss when you speak.
Ten years old and the putrid decaying lamb carcass life in four walls is your fault.
Thirteen years and the air bending charm of freedom is because of your persistence.
Sixteen years old and the mundane marinade has seeped in because of your inconsistency.
Twenty two years old and the never ending monotomy is because of your stubborness.
Twenty five years old and out of the mud I can see flashes of sunshine because of your relentlessness.
And now, I see everything through a kaleidoscope of these memories.
I feel so much love and I feel so much resentment.
I feel too much and I struggle to cope appropriately.
I am so guilt stricken and I am so angry.
I am so so sorry.
I feel so guilty today.
I have been hurting someone that I should have been helping.
He is an amazingly caring man.
He has treated me like a son.
I have treated him like an annoyance.
I think I did this because I fear his affection.
I think I fear paternal relationships.
I think I am this way because of my father's detachment.
It is a flaw in my character.
No one deserves to be treated the way I have treated you.
You are a wonderful man and I promise to show you the kind of love you have shown me since we first met.
I do truly love and respect you Tom.