Crossing The Rubicon

Wards of stoic walls wrap around the perimeter
gryphon sentries set with eagle eyes sporting wings as
ash grey instances of rebellion pass historic memory  
clubs and war-hammers hung, pike and sword  
   
withering vines die outside beneath a window  
 ...and this is where I find myself...  
beholden by the many layers of family guilt   
stuck as vagabond being lifeless to the tree   
 
weary, my mind went off to twelve years ago   
arguing with brothers, fighting off their masculine sides   
too tempted by bullshit they swarmed, believing it cathartic  
kicking me over Longfellow and cracking wise to my pain   
   
there had been whispers, having heard Toms musings   
all of Aunt Louisa's little darlings holed up like baseball players  
turning circles in the kitchen,  as I began to make my entrance  
in wiles gone lame ..................................this had to be the worst  
 
their grins plastic as their minds, we shook in repeal  
we each cast a shadow,  with thoughts to our beloved father  
keeping silent with fact that, last together was with dad  
swimmingly profane was this display, hunkered by a childhood disservice   
 
an accident of birth brought me to their world, they never let me forget  
cutting boards mock me, siblings stutter to talk, not one cared  
as we barely make eye contact, letting in the old hatreds  
we speak disdain dealing with it better as these are loathsome creatures  
 
filing in begins upstairs, we hear footsteps that reach finding seats  
uncles up there sold rivers of sweat piecing this house together  
old men blinking enter slither to corners, huddling electric baseboard heaters  
how many shawls wrapping shoulders does it take to fill a rest home  
 
things we know by shuffling sound, ones home creaks in perfect tongue  
it lets You know by board or by stir , size, place and pace, animal or human  
...and that up there is uncle Julius, knowing in mumbles that muffle through floor  
storied escapades run rampant of that man, times of riding shotgun, times of rum  
 
in the midst of all this piss and vinegar, it was my brothers drink that had my intentions  
one flick of my wrist in which a toxin shall remedy all, my past and future problems  
like circling hyenas set upon carcass their egos bulge barking about when they beat me  
senseless jerks pandering, laugh and look away as I splash my love upon Your fate  
 
no other brothers deserve this fate better than they, as every bottle gets added magic  
service in less than thirty was keeping my mind afire, no one more alive  
I barter a beer flicking open bottle-top,  settling my eyes on each one of them  
a wobbling knee, a swallowing tongue, my cursive handwriting mailing notes  
 
on the loveseat a sigh bores, the heave and tally ho , loss and eyes close  
whilst I giggle victory yet insulate within me, for no other brother notices  
I take another swig savoring, the limp of the other one enticed by a chair  
I stare into what's left of the eyes, as they lilt last of kin, this smile I surrender  
 
finishing my bottled brew an only son brushes past and present  
O pine wooden stairs I climb as king, deliver me unto the light  
doors to other realities open with ease, as locks behind me bolt  
The foul stench rotting in black molded thoughts, suddenly gone  
 
the entrance of the only son was hailed by family and friend  
"how are You?",  "Your father always loved You", "where are Your brothers"  
Shrugs my shoulders know well, as posed grief proclaims from podiums  
prayers laid and incense burned we lay to rest all past sins