a father figure in the stone
was carved throughout the years
when i was alone, in prolonged despair
thinking of my circumstance as unfair
and in so doing, discovering peace:
self-deception soothed the beast
until quietly i could emerge
from the shadow of the house
where the cheese fattened the mouse
and imprisoned through dull pain
all that wonder in a day
looking for a truth or purpose
but finding only a black hole
death is beyond metaphor
but i like to think of it
in thoughtful moments, as a whore,
the closest thing to a god
in its absurdly humorous war