Father.
They say
when you found your peace
it was in a needle
falling backwards
crashing into the earth
so hard and fast
that your brains spilt
across the cheap vinyl
of what had become
your sad life
When I was a child
I remember watching
you silently read the bible
from your bed side,
dressed for work
And I always
wondered with awe
What God
the God worshipped
And I guess
as the belt loosened
around your arm
and the poison swam upstream
against the tide of your heart
it was a release
from the old school
the shadow of your father
the pressure and realization that
you had somehow gotten
horribly off track
and I remember hearing your words
the last time we spoke
and how I knew you were high
that you had already
been dead for quite a while
possibly: Somewhere
hanging between the clouds
making my way back
to the state of your demise
I remembered the wind
and the leaves
and wondered if anyone
heard the crashing
of your mighty trunk
in the empty forest
of your death