dirge for a metallic earth (preface)

the land is gone // only steel remains (part 1)

there are moments from ages 14 to 17 that/

Over time/

Have faded from a blur…

to a


…to brief flashes.

I’m on my bike/

zooming down Adeline/

And as a *flash*

I’ll be whisked back/

To shouting and threats and “you’re no child of mine”/

But then “why don’t you call more”/

and “im so alone, youssef”.

I hear Never Ending “you son of a bitch” and smashing clocks on his head/

I can never forget the pained shrieks/

and the “this is your fault”/

But then “please come home. i miss you.”/

What remains of our bountiful forbear? // they were torn to shreds // the land was burnt  (part 2)

At 23 I still hear ringing in my ears from when I couldn’t sleep because of frantic shouting/

But I still get phone calls while at work asking “do you not care about your family”/

I drown it all in Deafheaven and Merzbow and endless white noise/

It is never enough.

I wander this land/

Only hearing ghosts/

I shout back “why can’t you leave me alone”/

And I fall, tears flowing forth. What else is there.

The ghosts say “we’re your family”

What remains? // Ash. and tears. and screams when nothing else exists. and a voice that will never leave. (part 3)

ps. fathers are trash


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