dawn

Ahh..

(Never listened to)

I wrote a story once when I was very little,maybe 7-8, some little sci-fi imagination thing, and I gave it to my teacher (mother).

I don’t remember what it was about but she acted excited, supportive, like I had done something.

She handed it to step dad and he couldn’t even act like he was reading it. Almost like his eyes just glanced across and he made some sound like ‘hmm’.

Nah, never heard, never seen. Unless it was mom’s weekend night shift and he was bullying.

What a Dick nugget. Wrong guy for that job.But she sought him out, because of her own father,,and round and round it goes…

I think back on some times, and I know, that if I had a Time Machine and could go back to a few exact moments.. I’d kill him.

I would.

He had these creative fuck you tortures, being raised catholic and all that.

I used to have to write twenty pages of my own name with a yellow pencil, columns of columns, and it would take hours, and my hand would hurt so bad.

I’d have to sit at the table and write my own name over and over again, for hours and hours.

But that’s not the fucked up part.

When I was done, this mother fucker would stare me dead in the eye, and he’d tear up each page really slow.

Like he was enjoying it.

And I really believe he was.

I know he was.

If I could go back, I’d bash that motherfucker’s teeth in.

Over the years ,their marriage became a business thing, and once his money was right,,he was gone.

And she got left to figure out the sunset years with a bottle and a diagnosis for early disease ( or she was looking to get the infirmed treatment, which codependents tend to do.)

Not important…

And you reach an age where you zoom out, and you spend a lot of time looking behind you

“My eyes, never forget to see, behind me”-Quiet-

My God,

It’s all fucked up.

Twisted and tangled.

I don’t spend time thinking about race or transgendered people, don’t spend time social justice warring.

Spend time looking around, seeing how it happened to other people too.

Different details, same story.

Then I did it too.

I sought out someone who bullied the fuck fuck out of me,,belittled and humiliated and ruined self esteem and always made herself the victim to my terrible monster nature.

And this has been going on forever.

Before we were even born.

ANd we found out my mother’s mother was a child of rape, by a legit murderer, and the family tree was a lie.

SO that blood is in there too.

ANd it all feels like it’s too much, Jesus Christ will it ever end???

but we digest…

And typing,,, typing is/was the avenue in which I sought release. Or closure or what the fuck ever.

ANd I’m still that kid that no one ever listened to.

But now I type my name a million times and I tear it up myself, and I stare you in the eye as I rip up the paper.

Shit carries.

Holy fuck bastard cock.

Does it carry.

ANd if there is a moral and if there is a lesson, I have no right to say it,, but it seems like you should be mindful of how you are with your kids.

Because it’s a cycle, and it travels past bloodlines and through time.Beyond money or religion or status..

And you can do damage that you cannot comprehend .

ANd ,,and,, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it funny. Or entertaining,,

(Not the point)

I guess not…

I stand by the act.

I do stand by the click clack of the keyboard and I really just want to know how to get past it.

SO I don’t have to stay high, so I don’t have to stay away from people, so I CAN interact in a positive way.

Just tough.

And it takes a long time.

( follow your heart, don’t feel shame. It’s not like the process costs anyone)

Time, it costs time…

(Forgive yourself , make a fart joke if you need to)

I just want to be past it.

(You can’t snap your fingers and do it)

Fair enough.

(Shit gotta change and that’s where people decide if they want to live or die)

So heavy,,,jesus man.. it’s all so heavy.

(Be peaceful, it will be alright)

Alright….

(End on a joke?)

Nah,, not today.

(Next time)