Poetry Book 4

the day after hell

So my brother's not dead
And it's another day
Yesterday
He stormed off somewhere in a huff
Threw some jeans and a blanket into his beat up pontiac
And took off
Saying the house was too loud for him to sleep
Though that wasn't the case
He called later
Saying he was sleeping in his car
Because he couldn't stay with a friend of his
Because he kept getting told
Of how much he fails at life
And over the phone
He screamed about how he was on the edge
And how his thread was thin
And nobody would want to see what would happen
If that thread were to snap
He spoke in tongues that would confuse a genie
And forced a tone that suggested he was the long lost king the pope had been searching for
And that any other words against his
Were those of a peasant
And didn't deserve to be heard
He hung up
When his words were challenged
Not being able to take what he dished out
And he sent a simple text
Saying night and ttyl
But his unpredictably
And words of taking his own life
Scared his mother and me
And as much as I hate him
I guess I care for him
I slept like shit
And in the morning
His car was in my parent's driveway
He skipped out on work
And only showed his face when he raided the fridge
He said nothing of his behavior the night before and the morning of
No apologies
No I'm sorry for scaring you mom
And no I didn't mean those nasty words I said to you
When I called you names and said you were useless in life
Nothing
He ate the food in the fridge
Commented about the way the cat jumped onto the couch
And left again
Only to come up after supper
When the food was cold
And the family dispersed
He won't speak of what happened
Maybe because he doesn't remember
He gets riled up and confident during his drunken hazes
Which causes him to yell more
And swear
And say things to hurt the other's soul
But he won't say sorry
My dad always says
He's not in his right mind when he's drunk
Those nasty words he said
Wasn't him
So take them lightly
Don't let them hurt
But that's tough
Because that's the face of my brother
Calling me a waste of space
And a puke
But his words aren't supposed to be him
Am I hearing that right
It's the demon of the spirits
Talking through him

But whatever
It's another day
And my brother's car is parked in my parent's driveway
And even though he's sleeping away the day
Ignoring the world
Only making an appearance for some toast and cold spaghetti
And limited conversation
At least he's still breathing