And There Will Be Sorrow - Thank You Bad Religion…

[poetandmuse]

It is with deep regret that I report on a close friend. Her father passed away today. “This might just be the saddest day I’ve known” - Thank you Sparta. Burring your parents is an unbearable task that I can only imagine is met with the worst possible thoughts. I can only hope that she finds the strength to manage these difficult months ahead. I’ve imagined how I might handle this very situation many times before (though, odds are (3-1) that my parents burry me first. My life style and high risk activities make me a likely candidate for early termination in the job of life.) and I have considered the fact that I, fully of rage and anger (no thanks to any of you dumpsters along the way, you vicious whores (speaking of unbelievable whores, I found an old photo of the one who I will now only refer to as The Originator (not to be confused with The Precedent) while preparing Ally the Alero for hibernation (yes, I am picking up the Jeep (to be named later) on Wednesday afternoon) and she is just as sweet and beautiful as I remember her to be)) would probably at first flip the fuck out and break lots of things not belonging to me and who’s value is immeasurable, mostly because they in some way hold some intrinsic value to the deceased and then I would drink myself stupid and break my hand trying to punch through a wall or a door and focus all my anger into my knuckles as I lay them into the drywall, into the insulation, the pink fiberglass itching and scratching my skin, and I wont stop until I break every bone and I’ll hold my broken stump to my face and I’ll suck the blood from the cuts and there wont be any more blood, for a moment, except for the swelling, my hand will resemble my hand only moments before, but then the blood will rise from under my skin and pool and drip and I’ll worry about how to drive a stick with a broken hand and the dog unaware to pain or sorrow but as all good dogs understand sympathy in their own way will come over and lick at my hand and paw at my legs and tug at my shirt in that way that will remind me that yes, yes he is here and that in this moment, it will save my life.

It’s with heavy hands
And heavier hearts
We lowered our father
And tucked him in
Under the pale faces
Of those who’ll miss him the most

R.I.P. D.T. - For Dee with love.