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Rated: 13+ · Prose · Community · #1148374
This is a piece on the gifts that my father gave me that I cannot handle or remove.
I am not sure if you can even see it in me but yesterday you failed to acknowledge that I'm your son again to a world that just whips me everyday. I wonder if they are striking me because of your inferences to your paternal regard, me being your son and all; or is they are pounding me because they know my name is not my name at all. It confuses me dad when they come at me and reject me for the position before they even find out the type of guy that I am. It pales me dad when they pull over young men fawning and it was because of their father's image that they were caught holding that gram. My cocaine is this intense vice and ever ready pain that stains every form and fibre of my pallid and paling frame. Who built me upon this frame. I know that God came but loosely and I can't view thee but I came to expect that of Him. I am tired of flinging into the winds this economic disdain I have and trying to prove this world wrong when I feel like acting on the tiniest whim. No I can't recall the last time I talked with her at all and I can clearly see that night that you were there uptown sitting maybe regrouping thoughts lost on TJ's wall. I never wanted to picture you that way and I hate that this is what I have in my belly to say but I find that my marriage, my joining with her for eternity, well, that's now beginning to teeter and sway. Like Harris despot at town hall making random calls for the neighbors to be decreed okay. And now I am the one who must decidely lay in wait. Oh upon how many breast filled images could I care to ever masturbate. I learned from you how to Master Bait. Wounded villians crying in broken sentences as they hold candles within them and never blow their spark. Dad, this is angry talk. And right now my house is still angry because my mind is merely replaying the scenes backwards and forwards and there is no other wisdoms that I care from you because your touchings have made my life so very degrading. Because its planted deep in there like a swiller at a country apple barel delving into apple carols for the choicest fruit. I learned not how to acquire wealth but how to poisonously pursue other fruit. You made me this man that I am and now it spills into her eyes and I can already hear her cries because never once did my hopes and dreams realize that I'd have to fight against my father's disguise. I can't stand to see you hide. But that's how I learned to hide. In them cars with them bars I have for safety reasons gotten a ride, but you went for violence and though maybe not proud of it then you turned around at the sight of soggy ground and did the offense again and again. Why God my Father bring me to this place where I can't even hear or feel my soul within my breath holler as it escapes into virtues that are passed on to them in storytimes and in baby cries and those not of my womb have eaten the meat of my despised eyes. I have nothing to give them but tainted fruits and a promise that it won't be the same next time. I cannot see without ther being a next time. Why contemplate even on a next opportunity for this crime. It is these same ills that have refuseed forcefully to pay my bills. And I have to still watch as she cringes when I can't afford anything monetarily to her to help pay my bills. How the spirit kills. I have to know why she hurts so and I have to know why the daisies for Jamie don't grow; why lil sis is experiencing this and simultaneous in my house the same scene displays. I figured out at this point today that every time I saw you nearly my heart raced, I defended a remembered face and my fury raged. It raged dad upon her and I stand before you with a fear and only a means to laugh. Do you know that when their tragedies come that are tragically needing the heart of someone I can't move and my only response to them hurting is to rear back inside and instead of crying I laugh. In their pain I laugh and rarely do more than pass. I don't want to be like that any more. I don't want to be picking up cans of donated soda sprayed across the walls and refrigerator like open ended police men and women quotas because I got you all in my peace. You are the image disturbing my peace. I vow not to release this wave of emotional build up on them anymore. Dad, they did nothing but sought to live their lives the way that they had already done. I even got the take over the house thing from you when they were in the house first and I've been duly reminded and it brings to my mouth and tastebuds a strange love for this thirst. Ripping my stomach walls and I think that it'll make my very esophagus burst. It is nothing more the worst. than finding their splinters splintering them and me walking out after a hefty shout that ranged 80 decibels above my normality. this is like a tiger triggered to devour and gnarl my thinkings of triviality. I am not trivial dad. I don't want to lose something that I never had. She is all that I ever had and she was wounded by one like you and I said I would neve be him, but I'm you and surprise there he is. Naw, I'm probably worse than he is. These are the gifts that you gave me and these are the gifts that I struggle to not give to these kids. Father God, take over now. Give me vision. Amen.----11-13-08 )continued from above) Now I am searchin for grace and opportunity seems to advocate refusal to knock at my door or ring my phone. I sit at home and wonder why you are like you are, and I give excuses for the reasonsthat men's eyes roam. So much chatter on the combetween this present day plight with words and the above mentioned poem. I have spoken to you sense then many times. And yes I meant to put sense in that previous line.. Because it makes no sense to be fighting a fence when my only defense is that love does cost and then I am again bowed for pleasurable stints. But pleasure does not walk around here anymore. I see now the looks on their faces when I came through hat door. IN that little church on the other side of nowhere to me, it was unfair to me an I know now why my mom and sister didn't even come, but sent their best wishes. Maybe the time is right for angry talk and I remember the night you ran up on me on the stairs when I was only coming to visit. I remebe the night hwen you kicked in the air and punched at my face and my wife was sitting right there. But my love for you kept me coming by, keeping ministry as most important foremost on my mind. I wante to be more than a piece on the side. I wanted to be more than a piece on the side. But now I just have again learned to duck, cower and hide. The arguements have started again, telling them that they are the reason that I didn't win. Now I am sorry and full of scars once again. I can't even tel now where exactly is the sin. Undone in the tongues of funds and sons and maybe I can't shake being just like you. Filled out my college stuff and it brought back a daddy rush and I haveto say truthfully that after that funeral I gave you up. AND you didn't call or come by. That sad because you knowexactly whre we live.
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