Hindsight

I stole my fathers eyes to see his worst mistake. his face a figurehead at the forefront of his expectations with his sails at full mast and my eyes (his) at the helm arched forward with an arrogant scowl unaware that beyond the stern moving forward a storm sent wind would hurl me into St. Elmo’s fire. so many possibilities lost to youthful whims of affirmation swallowed by the bat of an eye. my hunger was solidified at conception with the wail of a dying child I screamed for abortion but my lungs were full with the new atmosphere I would call home. the grunts, shakes and falls captured the heart of noisy faces and entertained their menstruating appetite. I was their chocolate. while masculine feet would lumber past for the next beer. like my kid he matches the couch. procreate then masturbate. in other words I gave you life now leave me alone! clumsy attempts at forgiveness just made me more withdrawn. through his eyes I see his curse. the worst kind of self-destruction. guilt. it emasculates a once stout man to a child who’s only form of assertion is to sulk. these are sad eyes I stare through.