… and the tyrants live on
I once found a family for me
we loved and lived hard.
I had family everywhere, Miami to Chicago
San Francisco to New York,
I had family all up the east coast,
Key West, Fort Lauderdale, P-town, and Portland
I had family in New Orleans, Dallas, and Detroit.
We were a family for a dozen tumultuous and ecstatic years.
We loved each other every way imaginable;
every way.
And then...
in procession,
they died;
hundreds and hundreds;
a holocaust of the ones I loved.
You can’t imagine,
you can’t know,
I still don’t know...
And the madness of it all?
The tyrants live on...
...the ones I’m supposed to love.
Violent, lying, rapists. The ones God loves.
I’ve known real family
So I know
They ain’t it .
Life is so fucking absurd!
Born without consent;
we were neglected, beaten, abused, and thrown out.
Unloved for nothing more than being who we were and being alive;
and then to find sanctuary, a place where you are loved and accepted;
And then death,
Death.
Death.
Death.
And the tyrants get to live on?
What insanity.
What absurdity.
What cruelty.
But at least I did know love.
Long ago now,
I can almost remember…
Ephemeral Gnoselph Prat
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