at some point or another,
it became important for merwyn
to understand what it was the dog meant
when he was barking at you to wash his clothes and fetch his beer.
 
he would stumble around in the dark,
looking for ether or a dirty sock...,
not really sure of what he was doing
or whom he was screaming at.
 
the words would bounce around like that,
darting bullets in a cavern of emptiness
that would scream at you in the high pithced whirr of a manic depressive woman.
the sense doesn't come so easily.
 
when you find yourself in these situations,
it is important to not stop the flow of blood pouring from your ears.
let them bleed out and you will see that the reason seaps out as well
along with last night's after sex cigarette
and the slim fast health bars your were force fed by your mothers child.
 
silently there she slept,
the ray's of the moon glowing on her skin
and shimmering in the tiny pools of blood gathered at the corners of her mouth.
somewhere in the distance a mad woman howls at the moon
and a mother wolf nurses her children.
some things never change.
 
but i do.
and i will god dammit,
because if i do not, then i will turn to thoughts of merwyn
and forever then will things seem the same to the ousted male from his former pride.
 
somewhere in the distance nature calls
to tear me away from this madness.
she beckons and i laugh.
 
"you are not mother," i cry,
the moonlight shimmering in the wells of lead gathering in the corners of my eyes.
 
"i sprang from madness, my mother is chaos."

Reply via email to