Pull the Plug

 

My current residence
is that cramped space
between
doing what's expected
and what's right

I live in this disconnect

Playing the rote
caregiver role
for an ailing parent
who does not want me there

My very presence

driven by guilt avoidance

he rightfully finds offensive

for it's such a blow to his pride

which the sickness 

has slowly stripped away

He wants to privately die

No longer be a pitiful burden

Away for the vigil boo hoo hoopla

of the getting the jump on death

soon to be somber mourners

who drive the thriving death industry

Never was much
for social propriety

Neither was I
once upon a time

when I used to be
my Father's son

He'll be back with his late wife

soon enough

and I will resume what's left

of my disconnected life