I still can't clearly comprehend who my father was. The only way I can find him is by thinking of everything I refuse to be. I still have memories of my father that have never been extremely clear. I guess you could say it's as clear as the muddy glasses I put on every time I want to forget the loss. I lost the man I wanted him to be. A role model, someone to love my mother in every direction you could imagine, I wanted him to be a man. When I think of who you are I can't form solidified answers because to be honest I don't think we've ever met. Name's Jon. We share DNA but this isn't something I take pride in saying. The story maps of our denials are wonderful depictions of why we could never really talk about things. Things we can't fully understand. Like how I would deny things like how bad the weather is, that my tummy is a little to jiggly, or that I honestly can't say no to a good beer. Your denials are slightly different. You have denied leaving two boys for one wonder woman to raise. You still won't tell me you are sorry, because in your eyes it's the world against you and your disposition. You deny eye contact with those around you because we all know your soul is unorthodox and burns if you look into it for too long. You remind me of the inconsiderate ******* who leave their brights on driving down the highway, they leave me ******* and hard to see my future. As I reached deeper into the bucket of something inside me that feels, I realize we have a few similarities. We both don't know hot wot act in public situations. Running has always been our initial response when our hedonic treadmill starts. I don't want to start. So I cut out the pieces of my life that resemble the ***** smell of your presence. I use those moments for encouragement and to find power in the unforgettable.

I’m lying in bed
******* on an electronic cigarette
After having a nice glass of absinthe
Which has left me with a warmth in my face

My father lied about “going down the shore to help Jimmy
Pal-Park install cabinets”
Instead he’s somewhere with I think Jimmy the Hook snorting seven hundred bucks of my dad’s retirement money up their noses

Coke

I’m not surprised
This happens every so often
Always has
For the past fifteen years of my life

He wouldn’t come home
My mom would freak out
He would answer the phone
Then he’d come home all ****** up, exhausted, strung out

Apologizing and begging us to take him back in
And we would


Mom would have me and my sister decide
We we’re ******* kids!
I was nine she was four
And my dad would be sobbing and sitting on the edge of his bed facing us with his inflamed nostrils
We couldn’t throw our dad away
So we’d let him back into our lives and allow ourselves to be hurt again

Not only did he betray our trust and our mom’s trust
But he used money we didn’t have to feed his addiction
We had to put a second mortgage on the house
My mom pushed to get promoted, knowing all the stress and hair ripping frustration that came with it
Even though she’s amazing at what she does, we all know she can’t handle the pressure
But she still carries on
My father is a hard worker
Worked all his life
But that mother ******* coke habit
******* it
******* him

When he went to rehab for twenty eight days
That’s when I tried *** for the first time
That’s when I cut myself for the first time
That’s when I knew I couldn’t trust anyone
That's when i tried to **** myself for the first time
Not even my own father

When we visited him
He looked red, puffy, eyes bulging, wrinkled and long haired
But he spoke of hopeful sobriety and God
What **** that was, he was back at again in a year
That’s when I stopped caring
I went into a reclusive state
I hated him
I hated every one
I hated myself

I began to take a good look at myself and my life
I distanced myself emotionally form my family
I couldn’t take it anymore, the wasted tears and wasted time
I became a mere guest in my own house
I only lived there

My mom always said she’d divorce him when I and my sister were done with college

She only stayed for the money
I think he stayed for the roof, the food and the medical benefits my mom got

And I don’t get it
My dad isn’t well
He’s diabetic
He’s got blood pressure problems
He’s got arthritis
He’s got bad knees
He’s got psychological issus
Rage
Mother issues
He’s a workaholic
He had ******* cancer!

Yet, he still continues to put ******* into his body
Completely disregarding his health, he’s family and his own life and dignity

I hate him
My mom hates him
My sister hates him

I promise, all of you, my family, my life and whatever God or spirit created us all and keeps us here on this strange trip we call life
I will never, ever, ever become my father
I will never forsake those I love for an idiotic, immature addiction

We tried to help him
We did what we could
And still do
I just don’t know anymore

I really don’t

Your "love", a fertile patch, grows
Flowers for my sick head--
Lilies for the foot of my bed;
A fragrant blanket for my grave.

You know what drives me crazy,
So insane?
I'm here dying for your attention
when you threw it down the drain
My mind's been missing for a while,
But after you left it became a hopeless case
I know you know I miss you
I know you feel the same
And if you want we'll leave it all behind
We'll start over again
I'm not asking for an apology
I'm just asking for some pain
Cause you look so human but you act a different way
I love you, present tense
But pride's always been your middle name
I've been dying to tell you how much I miss you
But I can't-
And that's what's driving me so crazy,
driving me insane

there is something tasteless
on the tip of my tongue
and as I bid it to stay still
you spill.
a broken dam.
I tried with all nerves
only for you to sit on them
tuning them to your song
to suit your voice.
puppet strings.
and hate is a strong word
feeling
which is the only thing I know
it seems.

They took her from me.
They wrenched her from my arms
As i Begged and i Pleased
For mercy, A sliver of Humanity?
They took her from me.
Where is the Sun?
I am but a world of emptiness,
Drowned in Seas of Grief.
They took her from me.
And i Tore at my Hair
And i Clutched my Chest
Succumbing to the Pangs of Despair.
Her very memory,
taunts me.
It teases me.
*They took her from Me.

I am writing this poem as a letter of reference for my uncultured heart,
Unedited and uncensored and
Unlike the affections I so willingly gave you.
You read me your poems
As if I were the first girl to receive them,
And boy,
Did I receive them.
I took them and their delicate lettering that traced
My name written boldly and profoundly in the center
As if the world was handing itself over to me.
To: Olivia
From: Jupiter
No return address.
I kept your smooth words and slipped them into my coffee,
Tucked them underneath my pillow case,
And folded them into a book I virginally scribbled in.
I found them scattered across the night's sky
And sewn into the shirt you loved on me.
I planted them in good soil waiting for spring.
My good, rich soil.
Untouched and unused.
I Watered them carefully and buried them with a warmth
That the sun itself couldn't radiate.
You lit me up and I was burning so wildly for you.
For you, Jupiter.
My garden was beautiful, full.
Plentiful.
Abundant.
Good, rich.
Untouched and unused.
And little white lilies began to sprout and dot the I's of your
I love yous,
I miss yous,
I was thinking about you,
I love you,
I miss you.
I was thinking about you.
I love you.

I miss you.

I was thinking about you, Jupi.

But drier than your recycled sentiments,
My soil
Became parched and emaciated
As more of your lilies grew.
My coffee became bitter,
My pillow case as soft as sand paper.
The small, black journal I carefully pressed flowers with
Now stained and sopping wet with Your cheap ink
That ran down my skin and into
Creases you left your finger prints.
Your lilies, though small and sweet,
Were deadlier than any poison ivy
I'd ever touched previously.
The little plot of earth I saved for myself
Was now a pile of your cigarette ash
And venomous weeds.
I burned so wildly for you,
But without you.
For you,
Not with you.
I was another one of your American Spirits,
Smoked, put out and
Tossed into the grave of another fruitless harvest.
Taken, left, and used.

I hope he makes you laugh
more than I was able to,
that his sense of humor
always clicks with you.

Does he know that spot on your neck
that's your favorite to be kissed?
When it's time to go,
does he make you feel missed?

Do his words make you melt,
the way you told me mine did?
Does he tell you you're his everything,
that you're what makes his world spin?

Do you make love like we did
or do you instead simply ****?
Does he tell you that you're beautiful,
that you're his greatest stroke of luck?

I hope he's everything
that I couldn't be.
I hope he has everything,
that you no longer see in me.