deadbeat.

it is with immaculate precision
that i have made the decision
to no longer allow you
to lay eyes on the being
that i have raised from birth

you are unable
unstable
and incapable
of ever formulating the emotions
needed to realize our son’s worth
and if i could ejaculate your sperm
until it ran dry
i’d bottle your liquid children
so they’d never have to cry
i’d harvest your seeds in glass containers
til they crusted over
and there was never a remainder
of the bullet that shot eggs
and left them abandoned
without a male counterpart
and a fatherly companion
i would flush them down the toilet
in a swift and murderous mission
so they’d no longer lay awake at night
crying and praying and wishing
to see ya face again
so they’d never stumble upon your picture
and wonder
“why isn’t daddy my friend?”
if i could suck all of your nut
and pretend to swallow it whole
i’d then spit it into space
and pray that it collapsed into a black hole
i’d vomit it onto a canvas
and paint a picture of fatherhood gone wrong
then hang it in a hall of fame for:
“MEN YOU SHOULD IGNORE WHENEVER THEY HAVE A HARD ON”
so now…
it is with immaculate precision
that i have made the decision
to no longer allow you in our son’s line of vision
cuz he is one of the lonesome ones
constantly crying
constantly praying
constantly wishing for you,
his father,
who is constantly dismissing him.