composing grace.

its like a parasite, really.
it keeps sucking and sucking until there's nothing left.
i wish it'd just go ahead and damnit just die.
die like him.
i hate that i am in mourning for a monster.
i fucking hate that.
i even hate mourning that two bit trash he called his wife.
i feel like harry in that one scene where lord voldemort sucks the soul out of harry with his wand,
the scene where that white light comes up and out of harry.
it kinda feels like that.
but in slow motion.

i keep referring back to my tat on my back.
"strength."
i previously thought i embodied that notion.
but this...
this situation has brought me to my knees on the inside.
if i was still a kid,
this would be when i merely wiped the dirt off my knees and ass and got up to carry on with the damn thing.
but here there is no dirt.
i wish the memories were dirt,
so that they could blow away like a desert sand storm.
blown away into oblivion to never be recalled upon.

i know in my heart going to the funeral was the right thing to do.
i was supposed to have done that.
i told myself i was rising above the past,
that this was right.
my presense was right.
but i also know in my heart,
that had the roles been reversed,
he wouldn't have shown his face at mine.
that pride.
it can do funny things to a man.

i can't say that i now feel like an orphan,
because i have steve.
but the one man that i pined for,
i pined for his love,
his affection,...
he is gone.
what a coward that mighty lion was when he tried to drive home that night.
but it will be somewhere in this day,
here,
now,
somewhere here where i will find that strength.
no man behind a curtain will tempt me with false closure,
for there is no "see-all" and "be-all" in this universe.
but in this place i call home,
i will garner my weakened strength on my own,
somewhere in this state of grace.

"its the weak made strong,
its finding what you're missing,
was right there all along,
its an open road,
to a better place,
its a life worth living,
in the state of grace."