my father was a
pretty perfect guy,
beloved by most
and especially children.

He was a ‘gallant’ (gaaa~laant)
of european extraction,
who tipped his homburg
and greeted everyone by name,
forgetting none and
who was related to whom,
or their distant cousins
in Kansas City,
with whom he stayed
when he was a
traveling salesman,
in 1933.

My only complaint,
was and remains,
he never went with me
to Yankee Stadium,
saw the emerald green
diamond miracle
in the Bronx hidden,
as he, small businessman,
worked six days a week,
and had no time
for juvenile sports pastimes,
otherwise, he was my
All-American…

Otherwise, he was perfect

And the world really did stop.
Haulted at its hinges by an indescribable force.
It steamed and chimed like a machine.
Attempting to break from it's shackles.
Attempting to breathe.
Trying to continue being.
It did not work.
The world was frozen in its feeble grace.

And the world really did stop.
Children turn to men when he went.
Often they viaied for his affection.
Beging for praise from him.
As would to their father.
We worshipped his every move.
Praise his inhuman brillance.
He was a picture of perfect.

And the world really did stop.
Life went on without moving forward.
I could only look behind me now.
Knowing the world won't ever be the same.
Others tried to fill his shoes.
Yet only managed to prove his perfection.
I was there once.
In the midst of my imperfections disgusting nature.

And the world really did stop.
I struggled.
Tosing and turning.
Trying to forget.
And remembering even more.
You face filled my head.
I wished I was dead.
Then kept it quiet.

And the world really did stop.
My mind find solace in another pain.
Trying my hardest to refute the truth.
I spent my days inside my own mind.
Trying to find reason.
In the silliest rhyme.
I'm losing sleep and time.
Contemplating a self destructive crime.

And the world really did stop.
Instead of tenderness for other.
I began to care only for myself.
I hid in the safety of my horrid head.
Escaping existance but not acknowledging it.
I begun to believe in fallacies.
Keeping them inside my heart.
Loving lies in order to avoid cries.

And the world really did stop.
Sweetly in the night it paused.
His boiling blood turned cold.
An arch angel was stolen.
Sweeped into an eternal night.
I live now in an infintie freight.
I do not deserve to cry.
He did not deserve to die.

Blue blue eyes
Glacier like, that sky grey
And I’m aware of the cliche
Of that statement
But to be truthful it was the moment I noticed their color
That I was finally in your arms and my heart rate fluttered.

Over a year of twice a week
Swaying in place and shooting a furtive gaze
Trying to be unaware
Of how heavy the weight of the air sat on my chest.
All along, never did I notice, the favored subject of so many poets;
The blue blue eyes.

Standing on a pedestal
Bleeding on a stage
Colored insides for the aesthetic
Beautiful gore
Enhancing your beauty with gore
Showing other people my bones
An idea of perfection being nothing but blood and bone
I lay here and laugh
At the body, i’ve destroyed
At the skin i've hurt
And the insides i've boiled
The commercials show the ideal size
So the people that tell me
The one that I killed
The one that I saved
Whoever would stop me
From crumbling bones
And melting eyes
Limbs are falling off and getting lost
But i'm the idea of pretty
With the gore falling away