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
Copyright © Chicano Eddie | Year Posted 2016
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