Ch. 11 – Ground Bound

my eyes driftin to the shadows of him on the wall
the shadows of grandfathers
and grandmothers
great aunts and uncles.
the guy on the couch
who is also his blood
looks the same as the picture on the wall
and so I stand
lookin for some sorta strength to be found in all this
ya know
from livin
straight-up hard livin
from those earlier days
ya know
in drafty rooms
and
jesus
fuckin
christ
which leaves me
here
drinkin and thinkin of past days
and forgotten afternoons
wishin there was a so-and-so to talk to
someone to remind me of who I am
or where I’m going
but no luck
just old vinyl records
that make me laugh
smile
fucked up beyond no end
asking for more drinks
more drinks, I tell em
yes
cause the answer
is surely down there
I mean I know I saw a glimpse of it
some days ago
years ago
but we’re still lookin
right?
cause it’s the same story
ya know
same fuckin story
laced with sparklin wine
and piss-poor survival tactics
but I guess
it leaves you fightin
with desperate actions
and maybe good-will intent
cause that’s really all you got
ya know
so you come off looking like some
long-lost hero
and who cares if it’s because
those lookin in are just gettin in line
for the same generous reward
but still
someone will yell from the crowd
get with it
no one asked you to think about it
you just do
you do
which has left me here thinkin
with glass in hand
starin out this window
thinkin I should get down to the bar
and have a few more
cause the guy on my couch
who is my blood
has the same idea as me
so we’ll go down
and we’ll drink til we are
polluted as hell
and we’ll let these goddamn shadows
these ghosts
jump through our eyes
and have a few more good times
cause that’s what they’d want
ya know
at least
fuck
far as I can tell.