The Humble Abode

If This Isn’t Closure

This is a constant debate as if everything I just carried out is damaging.
A closure so authentic it seems half genuine with the
Constant reminiscence of an accurate, enigmatic energy
I used to consider security.
It’s almost like a crime scene, with everyone
Wondering who the victim and the culprit is.
Because the lines are so elusive.
An intangible feeling.
But the feeling always hits.
It’s a dymanism embodied with something less incorporate,
A paisley schemed bedsheet covering the stains of a
Sacchariferous and amaroidal lust we used to consider love.
Bury the shame.
Bury the cognizance after you allow the final bullet to execute me.
I can only hope you can walk the line after you reflect on how divine we could have been.
After you’ve walked far enough, I believe I’ll find my place.

Ninety days is not what it takes.

Clockwork Owl

For a second, you thought I was a fool. You thought I slept in my drool, but I’m awake in your school for the sick. I’m paying full attention. I won’t fail to mention how you looked at her legs. She’s grasping every word and praying that he’ll notice her. How much will you take? How much will you take of his lies? Follow through. Now it’s that time again. You came to watch her fall asleep. When her eyelids close at last you’ll creep beneath her sheets. You left when the clock struck three, before her parents were awake. Now you’ll walk home with a feeling that you’ll never shake. Take him away, boys; tell him to have an attorney. Take him away, boys; make sure he never comes back. He’ll proudly rot in the filth in which he slowly became. Counting days, upon nights, on a full eclipse. He is the clockwork owl. He is the clockwork.

Dear Lawrence Ruiz,

Now that you’re back in the only home you will ever know, I hope you can reflect on everything you’ve done and everyone you’ve hurt and disturbed over the past decade. I want you to remember the night you pushed me down the stairs and walked away with a grin on your face. I want you to remember the night I kicked open the front door and you were circling the floor in the spot you attempted to murder my mother. I want you to know that you will never be considered anything close to a father or a husband; you’re a walking excuse of God’s mistake and you will never succeed, you will never flourish, and you will never be loved. I can’t help but think that with every breath you waste is another breath my father didn’t get to take. You’re a hopeless flaw and I hope you rot behind bars for the rest of your life. Welcome home.

-Cody, the one you failed to raise.

(via alwayshavesmokes)

(Source: roonotpoo, via weepingwill0ww)

The devil didn’t build me with the skills to stabilize a relationship. I’m too young for this, my family wants this more than I do.