I've never felt the kiss of a dad. I've never felt the emotions of mad. I've never felt jealousy or rude. I've never felt mean or crude. I've never felt a smile over my face. I've never felt a happy place. There are a lot of things I've never felt because they're out of my reach on a high shelf. I've never felt what it's like to be praised. I've never felt a sudden gaze. I've never felt the experience of being bullied or teased. I've never felt the closing of my eyes whenever I sneezed. I've never felt a good night sleep. I've never felt a tear or a weep. Why I've never felt these things you may ask. Well, who knows. Maybe it's because I was always on my own on a task.

I have realized that you don't

need to close your eyes

to go to sleep.

oh, it is a sleep so deep,

and how I will weep

when you go into

your eternal

sleep.

He was born with a pistil on his head,

Giving him abilities, almost superhuman they've said.

Negative and narcotic spidey sense,

Guiding his daughter in her defense,

Twisting and turning and crossing the street,

Just in time so they'll never meet,

She looks up with big, loving eyes,

And to his surprise,

She whispers in his ear something softly,

"Daddy, you smell like coffee."

He smiles and embraces her tight,

In the abandoned lot in the waning light,

Knowing, even in poverty,

She smiles and skips, full of innocent glee.

I spelled my name out

in the sand,

and it looked

like another language,

like gibberish or

Sanskrit, and I remember

you said it tasted like

hieroglyphics

on your tongue,

but that might have just been

the wine

talking.

I rest my head on my pillow

but no where to rest my

soul, I go to bed too early

but I never sleep, one of the

many side effects

of you, and they go round and

round the rim of my skull like

headache

nausea

dizziness

insomnia

thoughts of suicide.

I can't consult my doctor

because his eyes

are your

kind of blue.