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Vincent F

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Justin. Half man, half addict. 

You’re the giant question mark looming over my entire life.

What do I even call you? Dad? Justin? Biological didn’t bother?

You abandoned us to do drugs in Sweden. 

A whole tree to pick some fruit from and you had to choose the ripest one. 

You died on Valentine's Day. Cupid weeps for me. 

Within a pool of his drool, he woke up on God's bathroom floor. Check the floor. God’s got nice tile. 

Everyone in his life would mistake it as love. 


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