.What the Fuck is Beautiful About Brokenness.

It may be poetic, but it
Sure as hell ain’t pretty.

All I know is that my parents quit
Sleeping in the same bed when
I was just thirteen, and that pops
Only sits through Sunday service
So we can have our suppers with
Sides of small talk and not sorries,
And that I end up eating alone most

All I know is that I dream we are not
Dysfunctional when I sleep and that
I don’t even know what dysfunctional
Means when I am high, that my throat
Is burned and my eyes are dry and my
Left hand fingers have so many blisters
From smoking and crying and writing all

All I know is that my father is a good man
Even though he cannot let go and that my
Mother is a faithful woman even if she has
Been pursuing Jesus with two eyes closed
And maybe they do fit together hand in hand
And even if they both only misunderstand I tell
Myself it could be worse before I go to sleep at

All I know is that I miss the loud even if it was too
Damn much and a poker chip in his back pocket
Shouldn’t be enough to start a fucking war, and
She sleeps at ten while he’s awake til morning
And they have not had a real conversation in
Weeks, hell I can’t even remember the last
Time they fucking kissed goodbye or good

All I know is that if this is part of God’s plan
Or His self-proclaimed providence, then
The reason why I can’t carry my cross
Is pretty damn obvious, and I believe
In the scriptures and I have faith in
The miracle of love but I suppose
My vision is not in line with what
Jesus’s been thinking of. Good

[To KC and KC]