Heroine

What’s coming through is alive.
What’s holding up is a mirror.
But what’s singing songs is a snake
Looking to turn this piss to wine.
They’re both totally void of hate,
But killing me just the same.

I miss my son.
I’m not sure why but it hit me hard yesterday while I was talking about him.

It’s not so much the shit on my hands, or the screaming in my ear.
It’s some inexplicable sense of pride when holding him close, and that feeling of wonder when your fingers touch around him when you lift him up.

 

The snake behind me hisses
What my damage could have been.
My blood before me begs me
Open up my heart again.
And I feel this coming over like a storm again.

Considerately.

His mother tells me he’s learning to smile. His first milestone, big or small, that I’ll be missing. Just great.
This will hurt. Every single time. I know it and there’s nothing I can do about it. It seems like the safest thing for me to do is to walk away, but for some reason this won’t be possible. For some reason, the only option I have is to stand by, take the pain and fight the feeling of failure.

Venomous voice, tempts me,
Drains me, bleeds me,
Leaves me cracked and empty.
Drags me down like some sweet gravity.

The snake behind me hisses
What my damage could have been.
My blood before me begs me
Open up my heart again.

He’ll be a different person every time I see him. I’ll notice the changes that his mother won’t, because for her, they were gradual. I saw him on Skype yesterday and I could count the grams he gained; in his face, in his size.

And I feel this coming over like a storm again.

I am too connected to you to
Slip away, to fade away.
Days away I still feel you
Touching me, changing me,
And considerately killing me.

Without the skin,
Beneath the storm,
Under these tears
The walls came down.

So this is my fate, then?
Missing things. Missing home while I can finally embrace my son. Missing my son when I am in the comfort of my home. As if my melancholic tendencies aren’t apparent enough, as is. I was born with few emotions, but it would appear that a need for the impossible is quite high on that short list.

And the snake is drowned and
As I look in his eyes,
My fear begins to fade
Recalling all of those times.

I could have cried then.
I should have cried then.

I guess I only have myself to blame. Not because I am single-handedly responsible for the circumstances, but because there’s simply no-one else, if I must point the finger- which, I assume, won’t accomplish anything.

And as the walls come down and
As I look in your eyes
My fear begins to fade
Recalling all of the times
I have died
and will die.

It’s all right.
I don’t mind.
I don’t mind.
I don’t mind.

So I sit. And wait. And learn some Czech and search some job, you know, part of being a father. A father without a son to hold close.
Without that confirmation, I’m dependent on myself to uphold the drive, and I happen to be a poor motivator.

I am too connected to you to
Slip away, to fade away.
Days away I still feel you
Touching me, changing me.

This is bound to be a long, hard trip. I’d love to say I’ve had worse, but I probably haven’t. I don’t doubt that I’ll punch through, but I have yet to figure out how.

And considerately killing me.

Tool – H.

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