It is the fourth anniversary of my father’s last breath. That point in time when my self-inspired demigod within was cast unceremoniously down into the world of man. A place where I find myself hitched to a fatal cart pulling me ahead. Downhill tot he river of the precipice of a mortal cliff. Who will mourn my passing? My unconscious estimation of myself a broken glass upon dust surmounted walls. My creator transformed now into a mythic presence. He visits me at night alone and neglected. His weary form sleeps in my bed as I now sleep in his. This is what I aspired to in life and now find myself condemned to regret in death. By the standard of the shadows in my empty universe he was a giant and I but a single pea. The center on my universe with his paramour my mom that I found myself revolve around. But a fading memory subservient by exhaustion brought on by dead end jobs. Who am I to wonder since I too have had my time. Indolence in the lap of a mental luxury that we were all exempt from the ravages time. If it had to be lived all over I still cannot mange what might have been changed? We are all carved from the same ivory scraped clean of flesh by the weather’s indifferent vane.
The Fourth Anniversary )f My Father’s Last Breath.
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