His slurred obscenities echoed through the sounds of an uproar of laughter and the stench of addiction,
He couldn't admit to it,
even to this very day his addiction was defined as "something I'M working on",
No it wasn't an addiction,
just a home remedy to douse your past regrets of scars along the bruises of becoming a better person,
a better son, an average father,
when it comes to the point,
how does it come to the point where your hand instinctively reaches for a bottle to hold instead of a daughter to comfort,
you have a problem here, he has a problem here, always problems there,
In that pretty house,
on that corner,
among nice houses and neighbors that make the time to wave good morning,
when you whisper intoxicated "sorry's" instead of sober lullabies and the stumbled footsteps are what put me to sleep at night,
the thunderous footsteps without no melody, no beat,
Was just another night along that street,
I would dream his footsteps were eager to find me,
to surprise me with a secret trip to Disneyland he would then fly with me on a magic carpet ride there or maybe he danced to my sleeping breaths because he was so happy I am breathing,
I learned to make friends with this man,
mutually acknowledge his company when it came time for him to play,
I learned to look into a faceless man whose red blotches are the only things I can familiarize myself with because a tinge of red does not change the iris,
my perception was perceived by split personalities,
I called him Jim,
Here's a few things you should know about Jim,
He would blare oldies in my garage, "Earth Angel, Earth Angel will yo be–" it would always skip, then he would change it, "Duke, Duke, Dukkkkk–" He would sing without the music, "OF EARL!"
His company would then choose it,
Jim always knew how to out drink his friends,
that's why he kept them around,
only at night because facing the other guy among the mirror wasn't right,
did I mention his daughter died with him on her eighth birthday,
blowing out candles until her nose would bleed, the guests were sleeping with roaches laced in white dresses, among intoxication that clouded judgement and stabbed the little girl in the heart that very day,
All these years a man whom was brave, strong, and valiant just like the ones in the stories, fairy tales, those heroes, was disguised as a fearful little boy whose only weapons of mass destruction was his fists,
there comes a point in life where split personalities is what we want to be diagnosed with,
because looking at that man,
that strange face in the mirror, was a shearer face of him,
Jim became a part of my father,
and I can never forgive myself for not being the one to save him from it,
because he owes me so much,
it's easier to save someone with a sense of will,
No,
I had to save this man,
in order to save me from myself,
the song fades in the background, I grab the bottle,
Is this what it comes down to? Will my DNA inscribed upon me: addiction stir but not shaken among my soul..
"When the light is gone, and the land is dark, and the mountains, is the only light will see, No I won't be afraid, No I won't be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me"
I take a swig and spit it back up,
the satisfaction of being inches away from the cause of breaking people,
a home,
that little gir–,
his blood drowning in alcohol as I watch terrified,
hating him for the circumstances,
a little girl can only carry so much,
He was cold to the touch,
How can i forgive? I try to forget but I always find myself feeling sick whenever I hear his name,
How can I blame myself?
How fucked up is that,
So I forgive to an extent, But I will never, ever forget,
he is now with his new family,
he doesn't call, the feelings are mutual,
I heard he's sober what a surprise, with a new wife,
in another pretty house, on another street, among beautiful houses with neighbors that come over for dinner once in a while to eat,
His new daughter wild eye and gazing up at him in awe,
she will never meet Jim, only him,
she is left with an average "father",
such a strange word,
If only a "father" wouldn't replace their child,
this time it wasn't a bottle, a model of a perfect daughter who was shielded away from a man who corrupted my childhood,
I father never been,
A Jim I had to live with,
With a bottle as his friend,
my only comfort among that house was the very skin that I lived in,
I needed his love, He only could love Gin,
"My darling, I hunger for, your touch alone, lonely nights.."
I tuck myself away,
turn on the light and my mom is talking through the phone,
"May the white light be around you, may you have peace in your mind and soul, and have many many many good dreams"
I would always dread to hang up,
It's funny how her voice felt like home a million miles away,
She was right "don't give him the time of day"
But I do, and I hate myself for it,
hoping one day he will call and soberly say, "sorry"
