<a class="proll" href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/books/item_id/2250010-The-Last-Recluse">The Last Recluse

Dec 20, 2022 at 6:15pm
In response to "Archives"

Aw, I'm sorry you and your brother didn't have a better dad.

Fivesixer

Dec 20, 2022 at 5:32pm
In response to "Archives"

My dad passed away in January from Covid complications and cardiac arrest. We hadn't spoken but once in probably 10-12 years, and the one time we did it was...insulting, to say the least. Your comment is spot-on. I don't/won't be the one to rewrite history praising someone who isn't worthy of it, regardless of what others think is "the right thing to do" regarding the deceased.

As for the last line, he sucked me in more than a few times into thinking he might actually become a good dad. But it wouldn't be long after that the disappointment resettled, without getting too specific, in whatever form it would take. My siblings have much different memories and recollections than I do, because they lived with him and my late brother and I did not. And that made a huge impact on my brother's life, eventually leading to his suicide, I believe (among other factors). And that's where the last line comes in...he'd taken me for enough rides in the past that I wasn't gonna be taken anymore, especially after he blew off my brother before he died.

Fivesixer

Dec 20, 2022 at 5:18pm
In response to "That New Dance Craze"

Oh I do!! Thank you!!

Dec 20, 2022 at 5:04pm
In response to "That New Dance Craze"

I think you might have a typo in the last line of this one?

Dec 20, 2022 at 4:58pm
In response to "Archives"

I'm not sure about the last line, but I especially love the whole third stanza. And the idea that you can't resurrect someone into something they weren't rings true. So often when someone dies we rewrite history and only remember the good things or even start giving them attributes that they didn't have.

Fivesixer

Jul 29, 2021 at 11:34pm
In response to "8 Fingers"

A little bit all three, but less giving up than the other two.

Jul 29, 2021 at 5:35pm
In response to "Couple Lefts"

Love the use of rhyme and rhythm in this one!

Jul 29, 2021 at 5:29pm
In response to "Losing An Entire Summer"

I really like the first stanza. I think you could have that stand on its own and be complete, honestly. But I guess then it would be less of a personal statement about yourself.

Kåre เลียม Enga

Jul 29, 2021 at 4:54pm
In response to "8 Fingers"

There's a definite rhythm set up by 3 and 5 syllable words. Kinda rolls along.

Can't tell whether you're sighing or frustrated or just giving up. Works regardless.

December 10, 2022 at 5:24pm

#1041666

Not Named

10-14-22

I know this moon you're on
hasn't been named yet.
Like a first day
you're floating aimlessly
between stations,
waiting to be recognized
while simultaneously
being a stranger,
optimistic but apprehensive.
Alone to only your shadow.
We share the same longings
through differing planes;
with this knowledge
you'll never not be at my side.
And when you doubt,
just follow the air;
you'll find me there.
We get too caught up
in this thinking that
everything has to mean something
instead of just being.
I hope you find your place;
I hope it bears your name.

December 10, 2022 at 5:18pm

#1041665

Murder By Proxy

5-30-22

The cold, rubbing apprehension.
A simple softness, the misuse of touch.
The struggle of a people with nothing
to fight for
and no say in their abuse.
When irony has nowhere to go,
how far do you go
to give it a home?
And when is it not a place of your own?

This tension is my alibi.
I am not alone.

Fuck your feeling for fucking my concern.
These are the facts you don't wish to learn.
Pity on your "favors'; a pox on your house.
Hell is too nice a place
for you to burn.
You can spit in my face in disgust
for not leaving well enough alone
but "well enough" isn't good enough
when murdering by proxy is your choice.

This tension is my alibi.
I am not alone.
Retribution comes in many sizes
and mine is all of the above.

An Anxiety You Can't Name

December 10, 2022 at 5:05pm

#1041663

Archives

1-24-22

The man had a claim on a fortune,
trapped in an iron lung fortress.
When he passed I passed on a lot;
never wanted a thing from the pisspot.
Culture is forever; family's a breeding spot.
Never means never means a lot, a lot.
Whenever we tried to make the feathers fit
the birds flew away forever and that's it.

Ain't nothin' left to eulogize.
Just another face for the archives.

Archenemy, namesake, false place.
No place left in the safe space.
You can turn a man into multiples
but you can't resurrect him into
something close
to what he never was or wanted to be.
Trees don't grow the same
from the same seeds.
If this is my "let it be", so let it be.
Another chapter closed on history.

Ain't nothin' left to eulogize.
Just another face for the archives.
You can't be alive when you're dead inside.
Thanks for not taking me along this tine.

Comment • View 3 comments

December 10, 2022 at 4:56pm

#1041662

12-1-21

The rain pumps blood
like proof of existence
and I've been overthinkin'
too much
to enable resistance.
There are pauses in the cracks
of what we lack
that let us go down
the rabbit holes
where we drown
and I keep clownin' around
the same old towns.
To live is to forget or
forget not to remember
steps and traces,
misplaces
of thoughts or intents
like, are we there yet?
And the answer is always no
when you don't know
where else to go.
You haven't slept enough
to figure it out
when dreams dehydrate you
and strength is a myth
dictating you.
It burns you to the ground
you're too nervous to stand on
but the ceiling is forever;
for never, not
the most clever.
All that's left is
a train of thought
leaving the station
before you even have the equation
to solve salvation
this instant
and that's how you end up
with mysterious regrets
you can't run to or from.
This is what you are now,
the present precedence
'til you're overcome.

December 10, 2022 at 4:45pm

#1041660

In My Throat

11-6-21

You're the lump in my throat
when I can't speak;
I choke on the words
I can barely repeat.
This danger isn't new
but I thought I'd be used to
the damage by now
instead of flailing around
by my vocal chords,
filled with every word
about expressing my care
without fighting for air.

You're in my throat and can you
let yourself out so you
can see what I'm talking about
if you can hear me at all?

December 10, 2022 at 4:40pm

#1041659

Wound

11-27-21

Some day
you'll be
president
and I'll be right.
I'll be alright.
I'm not worried;
should I be,
with that which
doesn't concern me?
You have your rights.
And it's not you
keeping me
up all these nights.
So what?
So what am I doing wrong?
If you can hurt, then
so can I, even if
it's only a feeling
and it's
the only thing
we share.