Vantage Point

Vantage Point

Is it wrong to say I am having a hard time?

What is the point and when is it right

To feel down and depressed and compress this unresolved anger

Out in the thousandth tangential expression

In every direction but hers, as if a one to one conversation when

To brace the curves of this roller derby rink and sling shot my limbs

Past all the defenders holding the will to block my grasp

At that bastard finish line of peace as if there is even such a thing

I want to give up, I want to lie to myself I want to throw my hands in the air

And cry to God for help and actually believe that it mattered

That it wasn’t a hysterical tantrum of an adult playing parent

Finish line and broken signs of semblance and manifestations

Of genuine conversations of honest will escaping into a burden

Of concern that bleeds out for faking, not knowing where to go

Just know it is not here and is not there and is not back again into where

Snowmen melt and button eyes go blind the power lines are downed

And life’s anomalies turn realities: you frozen-hearted twisted fuck

Two-thousand seven stoked the affair, lie about the border lines of love

Head down and burning in the ice cage, fighting for the freedom to freeze

Sun flowers black and take back a decade of in these arms

For a bald man and propaganda campaign manipulating the mind of a preschooler

In a town froth with incestuous troglodytes perpetuating flat Earth schemes

That you were dignified, valid in stabbing this effigy of me up for display with lawyer

And litany of witnesses to perpetuate your case

That my daughter was better off without me and back into your tiny-town womb

Asphyxiate her life, stifle the growth that would lead her to see

You for who you are flawed and feeble, ungrateful and need-filled

Schedule the diary of her elementary days and watch the tinder burn

In the spark of those lies, flint sent so many years before you can not take back

What your intent intended to pour out of her glass, like water she never would drink

The oasis of a father’s love in this desert obscene, with manufactured fables of who I was

I busted your blockade with the permanence of constant present love

Calendar stickers, home made meals, art project drawings and the arms of a parent

You saw fit to not have her have it, and bring in your adulterous Will, wrecking ball

Under cover bald-headed Dingle-like guilt, brush it under the table

We use to eat at, the bed we use to sleep in, time lines you skewed to see in

The vantage point you want others to see, that you somehow did not plan this

In two-thousand and seven years before informing me

You were walking out and calling it quits in a letter from a lawyer

And not one conversation spent, explaining or conversing on what was worth saving

Since you had let that ship sail long ago out on an ocean of what you wanted versus

What you ever wanted the world to really know, well I know and so do you

In your heart you can manipulate all of the laws of God but inside that pride

There is a fear a small little girl drowning in her puddle of tears,

Aching behind a constant plastic smile, the broad homage to a Dingle-façade

Don’t address and don’t confess and never let the truth rest of the demons that lurk

In this cockroach counter house, just put Dee Dee in the corner and put your ass up front for the belt, Eat like a horde and devour the moor, Shield pain in lap bands and don’t ever let the truth stand on the front lawn of white-raised wrap-around porches

Just put up Christmas debris and invite the neighbors over to see

Just how Catholic you can be, in a family where no one believes

The bull shit behind the masquerade masks as plastic as a Dingle laugh

Ass kissing sycophant, bringing cookies to ingratiate the sense

That people really do love you and you are worthy of it now

But under the covers you still know how you got to where you are

And that truth will sit inside you no matter how far, you run from it

No matter how many times daddy says he is proud and you didn’t spill your milk

Or make a sound during service and you ironed out daddy’s pants

There are still flaws in this system that you need to grasp, look straight in the face

And admit you were wrong and until you do that this murder of counted crows will sit like a throng
On a wire in the courtroom inside you waiting to descend and
Peck out the eyes of the pride you lied to the crowd through

This genuine Will what does he believe? Does he know the man you told him to see?

This father of your child you cast out to the street, you promised him, he could be her dad, for him to call him my name and she would be glad to have this kind-hearted guide

Does he know the real you and what do you think Will will do? When he finds out the truth of my presence that I love my child more than either of you are capable and that the life she finds in my domain is far more stable than the fires you set burning your castle?

Ask yourself why are you able to continue this charade, haven’t the pains already been paid out in triplicate to me, I have soaked them up and they have no place to go but to flood back on you, I feel sorry for your soul it is truly rotten and bacteria spoiled

Thanks so much for letting me go