Family Politics

Family politics. Structures of power.
So many hours of their lives are lost to love that way.
He wondered, vaguely, why she wouldn't stay,
and find another way to just defend the stance
that his last chance brought home.

Another game, he starts again.
What difference does it really make to him?
He loves each present moment most of all -
any moment that still dares live through his fall.
Too many were the moments of descending
deep into his soul - or so he's come to judge
within the standards of his sick society.
Once or twice, he wondered why he fell,
but then another game would start,
and push aside his heart.

Adventure - it's the macho thing to do.
The profits coming in were all he knew.
Purposeless, he roamed the world wide.
Rolling with an oceanic tide.
He thought that she would understand
his yielding to all those great commands
of family politics and structured power
that consumed the hours where the love
once shared was always meant to dwell.

And so, he couldn't come to just one point -
one hour or the moment when it changed -
from love to something else instead, playing
games of win and loss - no matter what the cost
she must endure. For he refused to ever see it
quite that way - no matter all his many claims
of consciousness. But something deep inside of him
was surely not the same. There were moments then,
when it almost came to consciousness, -
just as he fell asleep. Then with a leap,
he'd come awake and play another game
Blaming all his newborn suffering on her -
no matter all the truth she'd offered him.

Sleepwalking through the days, and there,
he dreamed. This wasn't just an ordinary
scheme. It drew him into realms that he
could never make believe. They were too real.
Startled, he awoke. Alarms were screaming.
Was it real, or was it only him, still dreaming...?

In shock he watched the buildings fall around him.
Atomically encased in mushroom clouds.
Crowds of people running from the death
that he had chosen for himself. He'd never
guessed the final moves of chessmen
on the board. Most especially when
the female family members in his life
began to play his ultimately designated
roles of politics. Convinced that there would
always be that greed in 'everyone'
for more and more.

He never thought he'd have to pay the bills.
Where now...? The safety of those
powered structures. He breathed in dust
of what they used to be. This isn't
how he planned that it would be, back
in those days when love was on the rise.
Politics, his family - there's no one else left
now - to follow all his plans into disease.
Alone, he willed those visions of supreme
catastrophe - and so they stuck.

Sun dawning once again within a morn
that he refuses yet to mourn in that
one-pointedness of all his vast and yet,
unending, great departures. Awakening,
he went to sleep, at last - and then -
the dream arises yet again,
as all he knew turned back into
that haunting love of
her and him again...

? Michaelette ?

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