Poem: On the State of Paternal Lineage

The father told his son he was
Proud of him because when the

Marching band performed, he was
The only one who stayed in line.

It was a cruel thing to say,
But cruelty runs in families.

The boy would have his silent revenge
As his father aged out of competence,

Coherence, and consciousness, but
The boy’s own executioner was

Already born, marching for revenge,
Right down the line.

r horton

people playing wind instruments
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Superposition of Marital States of Bliss and Misfortune (#poem)

shallow focus photography of man and woman kissing each other
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There’s always that stage
Where you’re both in
And you’re out, you know?

You never thought you’d
Be caught in the trap of
“I owe it to the children.”

You didn’t think you’d
Ever cringe just because you
heard the creak of a door.

When the lid is lifted on
Your Schrodinger’s Cat
Marriage, you hope for death.

And maybe it is a quantum
Problem of superposition of states,
With each profoundly undesirable.

Maybe a cold observation and
Measurement can settle the
Confusion once and for all.

So it’s the doctor who peers
Inside and runs the numbers,
Calculating possible futures.

With all that’s going on,
You don’t expect the prognosis.
You aren’t really ready, but

His eyes tell all as he says,
“If this emotional blackmail
Continues, it will kill you.”