though devotion is gone,
it lingers on, as you can't
break a bond so long;
and, in the meantime,
you get clean
as you take your time,
tracing the bloodline
through flesh on the vine
under the family tree,
beyond the leaves you can't see
(and how unwillingly)
you let your seeds grow-
there they go,
leaving you to sow
bereft are your leaves,
beset with weeds
and, in your descendancy,
define a picture of needs
that should never have been
no, they should not,
cos it was
not created for you
to empty your blood upon-
you got your own
and i feel empty,
as i see i'm not much farther.
you run for cover with the island daughter;
here in your mirror, we're getting smaller.
and it's healthy,
but it's killing me to bother
you run, full of the feathers of a father,
a sister, brother; now me, your mother