Fragile Bully

Tongue twisting
word misted
lofty ethics
suddenly shifted.
Verbiage awry
crooked context,
sand quickens
sickens the truth
with maddening lies.
Bullheaded bully
vacuum packed
morals gone dead
done right
presented cleanly
above suspicion
heartless lips
soulless head.
Accusations flutter
steer recklessly
fly rashly
land poorly
eventually die.
Miserable life
distorted denial
avoids change
ever always en garde
tromping a perilously pointless
and petulant hike.
Existence’s trials
trails marching for miles
dust caked grins always grimy
shiver obscenely
spit softly back at ’em
–shake the fear off and smile.

I’ve been on both ends of the stick I suppose at different points, something that I’m not proud of, but can admit readily enough. Whether it was spawned from fear, trauma, etc, doesn’t quite qualify as an excuse for how I behaved at points during my life, it was my responsibility to “not be an asshole”. Feeling someone play out their own internal sickness in the same way towards me is an eye opener.

Tattered, tired, and angry though someone may be, it has to be an echo of some truly painful and unresolved issues to advise an individual dealing with a mental illness that they are despised and everyone is in the eaves waiting for them to die. Shitty and deeply manipulative behavior, knowing that the recipient can literally do nothing other than just sit with themselves, absent means to defend themselves without seeming more culpable as a perpetrator of something justifying such vicious and cutthroat suggestions. There is no power in the words themselves other than what the recipient gives them.

Maybe though, in some ways, it might just be how a person deals with their particular brand of sadness and pain–the only way they know how, lash out. Go for the throat. God knows I’ve done it before more times than I care to think if not totally in that literal context. A whipcord reaction to hurt those that hurt you, even if it is based on incorrect judgement calls and assumptions.

Everyone heals in their own way, and while that doesn’t make it right, finally, I can put myself in the other pair of shoes and understand the feelings behind the words. Temper my own frustration and resentment at the unnecessary cruelty with patience and accept that it is what it is, and life will continue to move on. It’s not worth giving though or dwelling on someone’s words when they are bent on hating or hurting you, let ’em go by the side and don’t look back.

Someone once told me, if someone’s an asshole and lies or treats you poorly, at the end of the day, they’re the asshole, not you. I’ve been an asshole plenty across my life, and that makes a lot of sense.

We have only ourselves and our actions to control–for better or for worse.


Parenting the Sin Monster

Abaddon by Eileen Understaalz

Watched from the outskirts all rimmed in love,
you gave over no safety that I could feel of.
Watched bygone while I struggled and spit
venom and vomit up until I was spent.
Watched while the waves came on moving higher,
swore I’d tell you to fuck off from my funeral pyre.
Watched while I grew sturdier before I faltered again,
lost deep in mire of life and filled up with sin.
Watched endless triumphs burned to the ground,
seemed life went crashing down even without you around.
Watched this final run at the finish line
with new eyes and a tone that said things would might not be fine.
Watched as realities melted and took rent in my head,
finally recognized that all wasn’t right for my seeming age.
Watched with compassion even from afar,
spent time learning rather than coaching a “star”.
Watched me enroll and hit the books,
instead of crack pipes and needles if you only knew.
Watched me change for ways in the better all dulled by the pain,
I walked through the fires in flames before I saw you again.
Watched me marry and find a good woman who’ll last,
she once told you to get bent though its all in the past.
Watched me grow up finally into something akin
to man racked in regrets and scarified skin.
Watched the people I’d hurt and sometimes you’d side,
with me over others, though it crushed my pride.

At the end of my days when I look on out to consider
how far I’ve come and whether I should be bitter.
You did the best you could with your view of the world
that you did what you could to help despite all the churls.
If it wasn’t for you I don’t know where I would’ve been,
maybe the futures changed are in respect to what you did.
Parenthood must not be easy I say as a father,
one seemingly absent forever trying to reclaim self enough not to falter.
And if my children one day come looking this way
I’ve got apologies, presents, and a lifetime to share—
I’ll do it different then you did, I want them to know that I’ve cared.
And if that isn’t enough and they hate on me still,
I’ll know that I forgave you for it eventually, even without a will.