the most beautiful ugly man that I have seen.

it's not possible to just be a man
without fear
without the things that hurt and pain and force me to push harder
to push against the days and ways of my youth
and yet here i am
somewhat hoping and wishing that things didnt have to want to be this way
that things could be simpler than what they are
or filled with the taste of a compound far more venomous
far less unmedicinal or worthy of healing
and yet i still fee like wounded soul
licking the scratches and cuts with pity and self-absolution
look at me father
look at what a man i have been forced to become without your hands
without your gaze
or gestures
or words of wisdom to whisper while i sleep
no matter, though
i have promises to keep
and little people to show the way
to be very unlike those who came before them
to dream free and fly
and use the limits of what others may say
as wallpaper for the walls of old memories
in vintage patterns unrecognized
given only a thought of what was
while what is remains bright and vigilant
burning bright in shades of red and blue and gold
streaking across the heavens
cascading into the category of what is
and never into the abyss of what cannot be.