in your memory not so gentle
perversify slash sentimental
caught between and caught without
I’m a failure
not your failure now


Looking at you now, it’s obvious you still harbor much resentment toward me. Even now, one year out from it, you cannot see the good in what has happened. What will it take? When will your eyes finally adjust and focus on the liberty from tyrannical rule that has fallen on your life. The monster is dead. Someday you’ll thank me. I know times are hard for you baby; it’s hard for me too. We’ve never been able to plan for the future, and as much as I wanted to prepare you financially for the eventual burden of being single, I could not keep the charade alive anymore.

in and out just like a knife would
tax the flesh and leave a cheap wound
fucked and fucking love and lay
Congenitally fractured anyway


I want you to find happiness and stop revisiting those moments in your mind. I can hear it in your voice when we talk about the kids. Your body needs company. You are craving the feeling of being cradled in someone’s arms, of being whispered to at night under the blankets. Warm and cozy, soft and snuggly. To this I say, in a strong and sure tone, go for it. You deserve to be happy. Don’t you see that’s partially why I did this? It took planes running into giant buildings to wake me from my slumber and see how miserable we both were. For the longest time I thought it was just me. I don’t hate you. You’ve done nothing wrong. I will never give you the kind of support and attention that you desire, and you will never provide the challenge and companionship that I craved. I’ve found that now with someone else, and you will too. Don’t be afraid, because you have qualities that people will find appealing, and the cup of your happiness will overflow once more.

unclipped unclean
this forensic scene's
all played out
the defense rests
and sorry's just
a no shit sherlock mouth talk con job


Don’t think for a minute that things were ever good, or that our relationship was as healthy as it may have appeared. You never trusted me, and that made me resent you from the beginning. How can I love someone that I don’t respect? How can a marriage work when you hide the truth from me in fear that I will leave? Don’t you see that’s what pushed me out? At every step you have demonstrated the need for this conclusion, this death of our family. I know it’s not death, but it feels like it. I feel like a ghost, haunting a house that was formerly its residence. You made me feel this with every lie, every hidden fact, and every missed opportunity due to your lack of self-confidence. I simply, and finally, refused to let these shortcomings stop me from being happy anymore. I blame you for losing seven years of my life on a bad thing. A thing that was rotting almost as soon as it was conceived, and now all I have to show for it are two brilliant balls of light and joy, and a heart covered in scars.

from your memory to this instant
worked so hard for working distance
like a mouth too late to shut
I'm a failure
not your failure now


Empty vases on the shelf waiting to collect dust. A child’s toy hiding, lost under the couch, knowing it will never be found or played with again. That’s what we were. That’s what we were left with. I don’t blame you exclusively, because I know I’m as much the criminal in this crime as you. Guilty of perjury, guilty of theft, guilt of truth evasion. I hope that one day you realize that I did not lock you in a cell of some prison of unhappiness and loneliness. I picked the lock, opened the door, and showed you the way out. I know that one day you will stop taking every chance to throw your icy emotional spears, that you will realize that the more time you spend trying to destroy my life more and more of yours passes by. I heard this song on the way to work this morning. It made me think of you, and all the pointless “what if’s” that run through your mind. Believe me, the truth could be said that the last seven years were not the best of your life if you would only turn to face the oncoming ones. The future is yours for the taking, a ripened apple hanging low on the branch] inches from your face. Reach out your hand and take it. Take control. Be happy. The beast is dead. You should see it for what it is, and stop mourning.

unclipped unclean
this forensic scene's
all played out
the defense rests
and sorry's just
a no shit sherlock mouth talk con job


*Lyrics from Fugazi’s “Forensic Scene”, from their 1995 album, Red Medicine.

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