I Am Not

Fingernails crusted with rusted, coagulated red
paralyzed this phantom limb clenches a fist of ash
determined to release only when the host is dead
all balled up it is pain detached from a youth of rash
and circumstantial life crashing down around the head.

Worn red string frayed at the edges tied around the ring
leading to a love turned to contagious and pandemic pain
cutting off the flow to the blackened finger as it suffocates in the grips of this thing
sister come back and say goodbye so that this will all feel right as rain
abandonment, the blade that makes me lose my head, and I hear the sword swing.

Home extinguish the passion that you suffocate me with in your flame
billowing smoke from the explosion only blocks my sight as I move past
I loved your sanctuary, I hated your people, you provoke a mixture with your name
lessons you taught me were many, trust and distrust, your memory will always last
though I was raped in my home; I let the abuse continue, it is not this that cuts with shame.

I am not the peaceful son whose quiet inflection observers dissect
the wild eyed, wild haired, mind of fleeting fixation from nowhere
I am not the responsible son who will initiate the journey or course-correct
the lost and wandering, happy to go, and sorry to leave with no plans to share
I am not the well thought out model of an admirable man, a wingless fly is still an insect.

My friend finally, I hurt you, I hurt you too as well
I am not forgiving myself for any of what I have said or done
my friend you shot yourself, I wanted you to go all the way to hell
I am not deserving of the presence you provide, I am not the worthy son
my friend you were patient, kind and loving and I lashed out as though from a padded cell
I am not holding on to the hurt, I can't be painless, I can only let deeds be known and done.