I’ve Got issues

Looking to you
for support
is like longing for
validation
from
a pterodactyl:

not only would I likely
age and die 
as I waited,

I’d have to forget
you were dead
to seek it
in the first place.

And if it were possible,
if by chance you were
to come back to life,

what are the chances
that I’d survive
coming face to face with you
after the pilgrimage
to your lair? 

Still, I’m saying this
out loud

as a way to pretend
I’m not scanning the skies
even now.