We sat in the same chair dad did  
And tried to keep it warm the same way he did  
For the kids we’d never have  
Because the winters seemed colder  
Than they once did  
And the sun seemed to favor other towns  
Instead of ours  
And dad said the chair was the only thing he’d ever loved  
When he died  
But sometimes we found light elsewhere  
In screaming flesh  
Or wood and string 
Or the hook beckoning something to feed  
Or the destruction of will to leave  
Or dissolving self into inanimate objects  
Because the threads of the chair  
Needed our weight  
And our audience craved our failure  
Because both provisions were tradition  
Because someday we’d tell someone  
That we loved the chair too  
Even though we didn’t

A BALLAD FOR MULTIPLE PAIN

Discover more like this

A BALLAD FOR MULTIPLE PAIN

Description

Traits

Contract details

Provenance

Discover more like this