The consensus
For your pompous
And pretentious
Accomplice
Is contentious.

He made a horrendous
Entrance—
Monstrous and non-anonymous—
Bearing a resemblance
To senseless sentiments
And remnants of fondness
For attaining preeminence.

He’s a walking semblance
Of resentments,
I promise
He has no honest
Calmness,
He donned the jaundiced
Cysts of asbestos
And stressed this
Prima donna contest shit,
This contemptuous vomit.

Acceptance is what these restless
Spirits wrest with yet they live oppressed
Like a wave that can’t curl or crest.

His life is violent—unspoken—silent—unexpressed—
Listless as a nihilist
Without an outlet or an interest.

And I love him regardless.
Father,
My fear is now farthest
As
Sunsets rest
Our silhouettes
Down to darkness.