Vent

[dull boy]

I've got the whole of existence in the scope of my vision. Every moment of history. How the motion and ripples roll through the distance of what's old and remembered. Our souls in a mixture of hopeless surrender. Attempting to own what's dismembered. Knowledge of self and all that follows has swelled, beyond our God's what we thought was our selves, it's always been cells. The magnitude of space caged in my attitude, dismayed. The masses views enslaved by pasts. My ruined day. Telling myself to use your place. Don't lose your way. I only get this life. That's it. Don't choose to face what's beyond your tools to change, but what about the future? Nay. What about now? You've got lives to raise. A child to spank. Teach about the things that kill you every night and day. Sometimes wanna run away. Like dad, when he'd fill his vain with drugs. Escape. Evade. Always a dragon to chase. It's amazing, the way the maze is sculptured. Use to see him nodding off on heroin. Made it my crusade, just staying sober. So I found a way to get lost in thought. A parent with a therapist. A novice, jotting narratives, or novels, often sparing his offspring of his parenting. Prided myself on being present. He needs my presence. That's I told myself, impressed it, but being around won't make you a dad, and more importantly, it won't raise what you had. It can't teach him how to behave, or to act. I'm supposed to show him how lace up his straps. Far beyond grades in a class. Yea, I taught him how to bathe. Gave him baths. Changed all his crap while his momma was gone and crazy. I snapped. Lost my way, now I'm trapped trying make it on back. Never be the same. Never see the same. Never have the weight off my back. Never be out the maze. Can't erase what has past. Lie to ourselves to hide from our hell. Numb to the moments. I just live with my life like it's something to cope with.