It would appear I'm facing the music of my last fucked up semester in a number of ways. Beside the blow to the GPA and the extended time of schooling, I also owe the bastards extra money that must be paid before the start of the fall semester. Whoo-hoo. This is what I get for a series of shitty decisions. Here they are, in 'never do this' form.
A) Never allow the burned out friend whom you know to have become a loser since the days of yer youth crash at your place for an extended period of time.
The River Man allowed an old pal to call the River Pad home for far too long. This led to our River Man's mind reverting to that of a 15 year old substance abuser. Only, the matured parts wouldn't allow anymore hardcore substance abuse, so our dear River Man became an alcoholic for a wee-bit. No No for real life.
B) Never begin to hang out with the burnt out friends new friends.
This one was straight logic... shit attracts flies. Neither are the better in that scenario. But, alas, our foolish River Man dove headlong into the pool of irresponsibility and almost drowned because of it. Fucking idiot.
C) Always keep your number one goal your own advancement.
I knew this... but ya know what. I said fuck it to the whole thing. Not an excuse. A sad truth.
But... I'm back motherfuckers. You may all return to your places of River worship. (Missed me, didn't ya?)
Cold
He couldn't disappear,
He was already gone
long before I was ever born.
The news caught up with me
at noon.
I was working then
cleaning buildings in the city
for shit pay
when she called
Hysterical.
I cried for her,
but made sure not to shed a tear
for him.
I created stories in my mind
beside his box
of the honorable man laying
on the maroon satin lining.
Tailored fine memories
of basketball games
and fishing trips
and anything I could think of
to later tell my children.
"My father took me hiking
when I was your age."
I'd lie, so they could feel involved
in some long standing tradition.
So I could feel he wasn't just
some household accessory all those years.
But the truth will remain the truth
whether dressed in fancy red satin
or cheap, knotted pine.
He was already gone
long before I was ever born.
The news caught up with me
at noon.
I was working then
cleaning buildings in the city
for shit pay
when she called
Hysterical.
I cried for her,
but made sure not to shed a tear
for him.
I created stories in my mind
beside his box
of the honorable man laying
on the maroon satin lining.
Tailored fine memories
of basketball games
and fishing trips
and anything I could think of
to later tell my children.
"My father took me hiking
when I was your age."
I'd lie, so they could feel involved
in some long standing tradition.
So I could feel he wasn't just
some household accessory all those years.
But the truth will remain the truth
whether dressed in fancy red satin
or cheap, knotted pine.
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