Your fathers feathers are falling off
he is wilting before your eyes and sometimes
you pluck them when he is not looking
his pain reminds you of your pain
karma is loyal and often beautiful in all the ugly places.
Your mother has found a crown that fits her well
It sits on her head like a praying mantis on a branch
she gracefully balances three trees on her neck
spitting fire when she speaks, setting fire to the world.
Your other father(lets call him ghost) fails at haunting you
his skin is made up of all the lies he has ever spoken
as though each lie inked his wrinkled flesh.
he is rotting from the inside out and you can smell death on him
he is the reason dead bodies fascinate you.
Your brothers are dragons being trained by the universe
there is a delicate balance between flesh eaters and being tamed
You want the crazy in them to show, to grow
the little one already knows how to spit balls of fire
the older one treads softly so as to not set of a trap
he knows they exist, the world has shown him too much
You hope he sees more sky and and learns he is fly.
You are sitting on a cliff somewhere watching the universe unfold
your heart seeks thrill instead of love,
one can always find something to make the heart race not break
you keep running into walls mistaking them for sunsets
your coffee is stale and all the medication is making you sick
your diary is bursting at the seams, the ink is spilling
when are you going to learn to speak a bit louder?