Hands Across the Water, Hands Across the Sky

“HANDS ACROSS THE WATER, HANDS ACROSS THE SKY” I sit on the cleanest side of the house, from 9 in the morning until 11 at night. cigarette smoke fills my chest as I move through new messages in my phone. it’s the simplest of pleasures. however, the greatest agony when I have no fire or charge in my battery. for seven years, I was a child of the life I avoided for so long. if it hadn’t been for my son, I would’ve left this city long ago. I would’ve left the whore long ago, but I didn’t and it gave me the heaviest of subject matter to write about. with the exception of my son, that was the only thing that kept the demons confused. I kept my insanity inside, as I once read, “A good father leaves his self- destructive ******** at the door.” I took pride in not letting my **** with her get in the way of what I had to do. now, it is the very thing that has brought me to write this poem. you can see the steam from my blood when I bleed, you can feel the anger from the pain the whore had caused and yet, I can only laugh as love has made a fool of me yet again. we stood tall and proud only to fall short and lie in our shame. this by far is the kernel of destruction for anything in life. I run my hands across the water and wave my hands across the sky. I fall to the grass and each time, the sky is still blue. By: Chicano 8-27-2016