Living Room - (Revised)

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(Revised)

Living Room


The entrance to my fathers room was narrow, tightly encased, barely a space;
And the foyer was hollowed and sullen, devoid of emotion and lit dimly.
Intentionally unassuming for a room with such a view.

Yet the shape still yielded comfort.
And if hardly admirable in aesthetics, what it lacked, was what empowered it.
Silt and dust permeated frames of portraits, family, memories.
Thoughts he seldom used.

Opposite of where I stood lay my father.
Eyes strengthened shut under weighted brow,
Hardly a movement preceded his breath.
Smoothly inhaling, as rest encased his being.
Settled soot gathered along his timid frame

Lonely, aloof and weak.

I stood near his side, mesmerized.
Observing his slow, measured exhales
Wondering if his dreams were of passion, existence.
(As the waning light of aspen color
Drew closer to dusk's release)

I fought for a space to reside in this room.
For it was indeed a small area.
Uncluttered, neat and simple, and still –
Obtuse, self involved, begrimed.
Disinterested in where exactly I might choose to sit

I nestled near my mother and sisters.
Intent on not waking my father as he rested.
Huddled closer than necessary, out of necessity since the seating was limited, purposely cramped.
The promise of compromise wasting with my father.

He slept as he always had, dreary and sure
Not concerned with what transpired around him
Never bothered by the happenings of others.
Accomplishments were scratch notes, scribbles in slumber;
Inhaling our exhales and ignoring our sighs.


Sibling rivalries laid low from neglect yet staunchly gripped at what held it tightest.
The longing for acceptance long since quelled.
Frisking through the mounting sabulous refuse

One by one my family dispersed, surfeited.
And I, I sat idle and waited for his waking.

He continued his rest through my observations, ideas, theories, revolutions;
bandied about, asking for responses, waiting for questions.
The faded family portrait on the wall, curdled by its corners.

Oxygen minutely ending my resolve.

And the evening waxed on about us, eavesdropping.
Watching the subdued chaos, the struggle.

My father and I, quietly sharing moments.
Having conversations amongst the walls.
Waltzing with perception and reality two fold.

In the end, all that was settled were flakes of house moss and my own resistance.
Since the room never felt tighter, more drawn.
And the providence of effort eluded results.

As my father slept through his windows waning sun.

[thanoblepimp]

I like this... Much Love...

"Life iz az Life iz Lived"
Your Noblenezz aka Script Luv

[skeptikal]

I Did Just As Your Name Suggested And My Ears Were At Awe

Very Good Shizzle Very Nice

[Listen]

Damn, forgot about this.