no hero

Is our hero inebriated?
drunk on hard work and misery?
The sound of a piano
is tinkling away
like the end of a movie
That's me, I suppose
because I have nothing
left to give
Here I am with the light on
late at night
It used to be David Letterman,
Conan O'Brien and infomercials
hawking exercise equipment to insomniacs
These days it's sad books
and writing about
the times we used to have
I'm drunk but I'm no hero
My father was an alcoholic
so yes
that apple is rotting
where it fell
My father made good
turned his talents into profits
I turned my talents
amazingly
into cruel jokes
There must be a law
ensuring these endings
The clues were there
I guess I missed them
So many people wanted to help
but I was compelled
the other way
What great defect
brought this weight down on me?
There is still the smell of
a church choir on me
The scriptures that I bathed in
still resonate
What I miss the most
is the virginity of it all
a cleanness I cannot find today
I want to shave my flesh clean
bathe in lye
cauterize my wounds
protect the innocent
because no one will shelter them

Instead
I sit alone and waste into the night
The hum of a 40 watt
and the rage in my mind
are the only things
keeping me alive
I can smell the hymnals
can still sing the songs
but the joy turned its cheek
the story got contorted
I am still there
fixed in time
I've lived so many lives
plagiarized so many lines
fixed the outcome
but was still surprised.