Before work he would just sit on that dock and watch the ocean. Waiting for his little brother [bad word] home so he could put a couple bullets in him, put him in the ground with the father he’d wronged. His hands hurt every day after towing those lines in- they cracked when the winters came. Every night [bad word] home to his mother passed out because of the junk she put in her arm. He’d pick her up and lay her in bed, kiss her forehead and close the door. He hated seeing her like that. He knew the only reason she started on that stuff in the first place is because she couldn’t deal with how his father drank. But that ain’t no reason to hurt yourself.

As the waves crash, the clouds roll. Sit on the dock waiting for the sun. Wait for the coward but he [bad word]  Pray for revenge on him. Steam rises as the [bad word] in, one by one. You know she is gone and there’s no saving her. Her cheating, her weak will, the addiction, that needle. When [bad word] home to find her on the floor, you’re reminded of those sleepless nights that will haunt you for the rest of your life. Blue collar shipyard, any way to keep her alive. Sun up to sun down, blistered hands and a parched mouth.