A Portrait

from by Penny Arcade



Your face was filling in with white fur signs of age
And everything in hindsight
Was perfectly positioned to change your mind.
I swear only I see it, the shoestring by the door
You tore through yesterday -
The way you’re teething through the growing pains.

It’s a bitter pill, but I’m sure you’ll choke down all of it.
And it’s hard to hear, but you’ll have to break the habit.

I don’t remember walking out, only coming through the door
And missing familiar footsteps falling on hardwood floors -
The purist form of closure.
Your eyes were darkest when you were fighting off your demons
And some books that I bought, I didn’t read through to the end
Just characters that I relate to left in an awful situation.

We’re more that the footprint of this space, oh it’s all the same -
Just hand-me-downs, gently used, carbon based.

I tried to paint you in landscape, but you were still too big for the frame.
I tried to catch all your colors, but they just ran off the page.

I picture you on a fourth floor elevator.
The several second span when your whole life comes together
After months of losing ground, and passing through someone else’s back door.

Never become civilized or apologize, it doesn’t suit you.
In this living breathing hell that we both built,
But we knew every way out.

I refuse to be dead weight.


from Oliver, released November 11, 2016



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Penny Arcade Akron, Ohio

Just passing time until a Dashboard Confessional cover band becomes plausible.

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