Grave Sitters

They sat at that grave for way too long. There, neither of them belonged.

Was it denial?

Could they not smell the rotting vile?

Was it too hard to declare it deceased?

I wanted for both of them their own inner peace.

Maybe sitting there, staying there was it. A concept like that in my mind couldn’t fit, for long ago would I have done away with it.

I lived in the middle of its repercussions.

All I could seem to see is they both suffered massive concussions.

They couldn’t have been passed out this long.

27 years stuck in an a coma?

If I could pull the plug I’d surely alter their state and jar them awake.

If only that cord was mine to pull.

Instead I watch their heads spit bits of bull one another not buying the bull of another yet they push on to put up with one another.

If there is one thing I know it’s what love looks like, in all its mutated forms.

This wasn’t one of the norms.

I blamed myself for it for some time.

I thought having children gave them reason to weather the season,

but we aren’t worth such murderousness.

The only conclusion I could trust was a simple yet complex one.

Neither ever knew what to want, they took what they could get

and told us it was something to flaunt.

Their lies of their ties to each other constantly haunt.

I can never look away.

It’s my blessing and burden,

mostly burden thus far,

an ever growing scar,

watching the warping without a weapon to cease it,

the whole thing is falling to pieces

but it doesn’t die fast enough.

Does time think they will spark up and call the bluff?

If so I’m wiser than time.

For I know that’s no potential found in their mind.

I’ve endlessly hunted for a shred of it,

and the concepts in their head sure doesn’t fit.

So why is it so longly allowed?

Are they waiting for me to make them proud?

I know I’ve been trying for that in the best way I know how.

Now it’s not the pursuit they would have advised me

but when I’d try their way

I can’t help but despise me.

I know what suits me best

and I keep showing up for its test.

One day my writing will pop,

but I don’t think it will make their silent fighting stop.

How can two people not see they're not suited for each other?

Delusion runs deep

in this castle I keep.

I hang myself so far above it

but can’t seem to make it let me go,

I wonder if there’s something else I’ve yet to know?

Is there something I’ve missed?

A key? That could unlock me from their misery.

Even when I’m freed

it’s lessons I’ll hold forever close to my heart.

The lessons of how to ruin your art.

I’m pretty good at being alone

and I learned that by living with people living together in a home.

Isn’t that a paradox?

It’s certainly not a pair of socks.

When I’m unlocked

and left to be everything that's me

not a trail of stagnant staying around me will I see.

Anyone can do it on my front lawn but they’re not stepping foot on my porch, I may be “jaded” but I’ve got the torch, smoke in my mouth and gun in the other arm, I’m ready for anyone trying to attempt that long drawn harm.

Their patterns in my pattern—won’t be allowed repeating.

Some like to think they’re certain they’ll be a different type of person

than those who birthed them.

But that’s mostly a lie

they look in the eye

and see as a best friend.

I can tell myself stuff to, but I don’t do it unless it's true.

I’ve been different than them since birth,

had to dump out what they tried to teach me had worth

then find the lines that don’t poison the mind.

Hell I had to draw some too and fill in plenty of gaps,

the lines weren’t drawn

by someone who hadn’t had lacks.

I’m the real definition of life hacks.

Cocky, arrogant,

whatever word you’d like to think that statement dictates,

if you can ever find me in my world

I’ll show you how that’s not fake.

I warned you though don’t get close to my porch.

A hand though I’ll extend

if I ever find a mind who’s witnessed what I’ve witnessed

since January 10.

You can put that date in your pot of clues

and plot out why

it I would use.

See I like to confuse.

It’s the curse I suffered seeing

since I was in diapers peeing

so I play with it’s complexity

like a simple rubber ducky.

That’s best use I can make do

of the thing that tried to constantly fuck me.

Funny how your poison can be your sword.

I’m gonna stop writing right now cause with this thought I am bored.

I think it’s creatively and concisely articulated,

if it fulfilled you fruitfully

I’ve done my duty dutifully,

but if it’s left you feeling confused

as it was too complicated.

That’s not something I hadn’t anticipated.