father time

somedays i wonder what's going to happen to you when it's all said and done.

when that body of yours is all used up and you can no longer fend for yourself.

will you come to me?

will you show up on my doorstep and extend a withered olive branch.

and stare at me with empty glassy eyes and recite your plea bargain that you skillfully plotted and rehearsed a hundred times over.

"i have no one else to turn to."

and

"i thought about you everyday."

and

"i wanted to call but a day would pass into a week.

into a month.

into a year.

and i felt too guilty to contact you at all"

and of course the occasional

"i love you"

thrown in for effect and to weaken the knees.

past full grown, past your prime, withering away before me, still nothing but a child.

grasping out for a tit to suckle and restore your youth.

glossy eyed and at my front door.

and i wonder...

will i care?

and i think about your funeral.

sitting in cold stale air.

people scattered amongst pews, like flakes of dust glinting in the rays of sun.

watching family cry and mourn you lost mortal soul.

what's left of you crammed into a wooden box, on display for all to see.

and i wonder...

will i care?

will i shed a single tear for you?

or will it be a repeat of that day on my doorstep.

when i decided to step back and swing that huge wooden door shut.

blocking out those glossy eyes.

clasping that brass door knob in my trembling hand.

that was my final good bye.

now i stare down at your closed eyelids and paled skin.

my hand is not trembling.

my eyes are not glossy.

you are just a man crammed into a well crafted wooden box to me.

i don't know you.

and i said my last good-bye on a doorstep a long time ago.

a time and a place

on the day you decided to kill yourself.

you began to give a certain importance to things.

to everything.

what used to have no sentimental value or even any reason to pay your mind, now holds profound meaning.

an almost enlightened value.

it now is saturated with importance and value, much like an over absorbed sponge, oozing out details of it's new god like status.

but when all things, great or small, hold the same high value, they will inevitably numb each other out.

an over stimulation, rendering your senses dull.

too much for any mind or spirit to handle.

thus you feel numb and empty again.

drowning in an abyss of over stimulation.

but the flowers they hold new meaning.

a butterfly is no longer just a glorified moth.

it is now more beautiful than any creature to grace this earth.

the touch of another human being is more powerful than any drug.

but it all means nothing.

you are numb.

and dulled down to a round point.

and this is when the decision was made.

that this is to be the day,

you kill yourself.

A mouse. A mice. A meases.

The reason I do some of the things I do.

Behave the way I tend to behave.

And on rare and far between occasions, enjoy the things I enjoy.

Psychoanalyze yourself sometime.

It can be a riveting thing.

Try and figure out why you fall in the same pitfalls time and time again.

How you find yourself in toxic and loveless relationships.

Track down that dark and dirty secret in your past, the one that embarrasses, hurts, and pains you to no end.

Dig it up.

Pull that skeleton out of the closet dust him off and politely ask if he would care to dance.

That one thing you hate about yourself, that little critter that lives in your head and makes you do the thing you despise most about yourself.

Take a finger insert it into your nose push as hard as humanly possible and attempt to give yourself a full frontal lobotomy.

More than likely, leaning to the likely, you will find yourself in an ER waiting room next to a man attempting to get off in strange and unusual ways you have never dreamed of.

Those stories you hear about people loosing limbs in the most spectacular ways.

One of these people will be there as well.

Crowded in a room next perverts, weirdos, sex fiends, and addicts, and you didn’t even have to break a crime for such a vibrant grouping.

Or you can simply try to rid yourself of that little critter in your mind, the one who holds that darkest secret, and reminds you of it at your weakest and proudest moments.

Your subtle reminder that you are not the angel you think you are.

Well just try, one day instead of wiping him out, ask him “Why?”

Find out where he came from.

Scrap around that vast and empty mind of yours, no offense, and try to find out what the source is.

Ground zero to your one true mental issue.

Or take the easy way out, but if you do, may I suggest you try a pencil or chopstick.

The majority of the time, the human finger is much too wide and incapable of getting deep enough into the nasal cavity to do any real damage.

Good luck

and

Godspeed