amphibi.us

Let us now speak of a man.
A man who smells of showers lost, forgotten.
A man who smells of cigarettes defunct.
Overflowing ashtrays fill his table space
Scotch bottles scattered, filled with empty.
Half empty.
Nicotine stained fractals splash the carpet
Mandelbrot?
No.
Marlboro.
American Spirits haunt the hallway
Camels canter among the clutter.
Deep breaths taste of distress here
Misanthropic maladies permeate here
Fatigue and manifest destiny coalesce here
Within him intelligence emanates
counted among his countenance
Illness swells from his commonplace
Manic decompression
Lost things known dear to him
Abandonment ensues
Pursuing the victim
The benevolence of his intent
Lost in elucidation
His actions intense
He is lost and confusion immense

I see him now.
I see him now.
I see him now as his son.
As his son.
As his savior.
His savior for the benefit of none.
His savior who can not die for his sins.
His savior who will not die for his sins.
His savior that must live in spite of his sins.
His savior absolving sins since the 8th living year.
I can not be his savior any longer.
I will not be his savior any longer.
No, Father.
No.
That responsibility lies with you.
One day I will forgive.
For now I must let go.
Let you go.
The pain is yours.
Yours alone.
Alone.

© Jesse Hindman, 2009

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