frankenstein

            
   
my old man  
lost his other son a couple of years back  
did not see that coming not even on the previous evening    
'course was never a fighter rather always was the softie    
the lone child who gets intimidated and goes into    
hiding inside himself bumping into people  
dropping and forgetting things muttering    
   
it altered him from inside outside  
his face lost its colour his neck showed more by the day  
popped pills all day blue white orange cap pop gulp changed sides    
watched the telly switching channels drugged dour bearing his loss    
on his chest like a dead cat he had killed in the dense wild  
his misery grew like wildfire stuck to him grabbed him and    
he let it  
   
submission is the easier route i know they say  
   
sleepwalked overate underate    
looked gaunt uncouth forgot his meds  
and worse his clothes walking butt naked  a few times mostly at night talking to himself  
i did not watch him for more than the entire time loved that drama loved him in those moments  
we were quite alike brilliant it was i found yes i was a fucking copy of him  just a rotten version    
one who won't show or give in to anything    
an ugly fucker unlike him  
   
did it change anything  
yes most definitely it did change it all the whole thing cos' post the realization    
the hatred grew and got the very better of me until eventually there were a few wars of words  
charged towards him a few times when he said things any man can't or wont take  
he saw the rage and backed off grew limp sad distant weak until the moment    
i took one glance and wanted to kill either one of us  
   
that night i emptied his entire bottle into an empty stomach and shut the door    
waiting for whatever was in store for me breathing fire sweating oceans  
for hours rode the high a crazy beautiful scary high saw stuff    
survived a twenty feet fall woke up walked back home    
got dressed packed my bags and left    
   
knowing that he was good in a way    
exactly in a place where he should have been  
a man's gotta give after all    
   
man's got to be sad and feel alone and flash it to the world  
that's his right straight from the moment he gets yanked out wailing    
aint that what all of us do every fucking day of our lives  
so i let him be cos' misery's a pricey private affair  
so long pops to each his own