a guilt that aches at even the barren labeled sisters and aunts.
The teachers, nanny’s all pair up together for a collective burden that fate can’t escape.
The belly button
belly up 2 belly jelly
2belly is the ping pong of a yin yang destiny.
We run but never hide
the chromosomes merging a polarity of I have to rely on him for nothing. He is not dependable anyway to take care of the screaming youngster that I created
and force you to babysit dad.
The great negotiation shared with the very flesh of your thighs
pried open by the smiling nurse and a bright overhead light.
First to see you dad
in the waiting room passing out cigars and dreading
the loss of the bat cave but solid in the architecture of the SheShed….
oh man oh man… I should wait to call him?
Two three days by the phone wondering why on mars they don’t know how to dial it up when the hyena cawls…
Chained and blue balled playing poker with the only dudes who give a scoobie dooo…
Sick and tired of the cartoons and video games in the background of shitting the pants.
Cradle to grave inescapable village
whether the seed sprout sacral sacred pains in the kneck. A massage is in order that the stingy ones can’t afford
and the barista dares to put out a tip jar. Gotta get the bugs out using my raised voice cuz they had it coming.
get thee to thy own sand pile
that fills every inch of the great outdoors.
There lies your serenity and sanctuary from the fraid knot play that you were in fond remembrance that fourth of july,
when we had the whole family over. Including mother…. eekkkk.
she cutsin line to get the last piece of blueberry pie to ease the lack of a family of hunger and addiction.
Absorbed and observed by spirits long dead
but forgotten in the web of ancestory.com. A community of witdraw my sword before bleedin gives me another task to do
before it is time to hit the hay.
Counting sheep that she longs to impress with a clever antidote to superficial desires
born of shame accepted in the wrestling ring.
that my narcissistic need for individuality makes me the good one to fall
holding onto stunted growth that my choices decide to nurture or abandon.
Anger at the
of her rope and
within me the whole time.
Guilt number one,
shame number two,
anger number three,
apathy number four and fear number five. Six of us deluded and distorted thought process to bring me back to the relationship in which I was wounded by.
A wheel set just beyond belief and desperate to catch a mistake before the spelling bee and pta parade.
Every so often mother gleams a magic thought that something is different and some
how a change will break up
or down to be the possibility of capable caring. The possibility of life.
The possibility of baby eyes showering off the manipulative problem solve.
Training pants and theories taken from the fray to reach a practical stage of information solutions.
Deeper and deeper to relate it all
to another person and be seen as worth a dam without exposing any vulnerability, therefore diminishing mine.
The new birth giggle joy opportunity to reset.
Relift. Recommit and resubmit
to a higher power
and the lower power left out of the equation yet runs the show.
Sun Mom. Moon Dad.
Reflecting the same light eclipsed by the spark in their eyes and burning the house to the ground.
Don’t believe your own feeling.
Feelings gaslit bad ta da all your flaws exposed to my trust. Feelings ba humm bug.. Feeling no doubt. Doubt.
Wrong with you not me taking your feelings out of the mix.
Feelings don’t matter when I appear in control and isolate you before you discover the tingling in your fingertip.
Feelings be gone when I wear the pants and the shoes are made for walking.
Feelings be drag when interfere with our trauma bond to make me redemptive.
I brought you in, I can take you out.
God has no place here.
Goddess happy, papa happy.
No Jesus Merry or joseph on planet earth. Only me as mother.
Fending for myself. lost and forgotten and
barely a teenager just stepped foot into adult and
given all the co=dependencies to not
kill the kids and the marriage in the biggest fight to
save my own
cradle and all.
painting by leahjoyart