I don’t really want to lay here,in the dark at 5 am and pretend that I can’t hear you chew on your teeth, but you know and I know that we can’t get any shut eye because your dad might be home to yell at your mom or come tumbling down the basement, like a drunken old bull looking for a fight he would lose.
I never really wanted to stand around, and wonder how long it would take for the frail ego of a broken man to snap, and send himself or you or us off into oblivion to watch him battle his demons in some hell that we could only view through thick brown glass.
I never wanted to call the police on him, or listen to your mom cry, but I would do it all again if it meant I could lift some of the weight from your back.
I hope that we gave you the family you needed, when we were all drunk sleeping on your floor or throwing up in your sink or taking your car to steal food for the week. I hope that we gave you a chance to be the kid and not the adult, to have a good time skating or throwing rocks at cop cars from an overpass.
we are going to escape this poverty, we always planned on it and now we are past the point of no return.
rumble, young man rumble.
1 note, April 23, 2014