All that remains.

My father's anger died with him
At the breakfast table lost for words.
From here it seems like a distant dream
Back where I broke and began again.

And all the good times
And all the laughter
Drift into the ether,
like dissolving particles in a chemical reaction.

As broken english interjects
the cold stone walls.
Painting glimpses of sentences
of tones and textures.
My psyche fills the gaps
colouring by numbers,
staggering forth to a new set of lows.