junksick
Bluelighter
I was slapped in the face by a commingling of DNA, parents too withdrawn to care. Vivid emotions still fill me full of quiet detachment, watching the television embed itself into my soul. Life is picturesque in these times… really, who remembers the bad parts of the past? The minute bad is stricken from the brain, only the significant bad kept.
My father was a man who’s life was sucked out of him, married at 18, kids late 20’s, he used to constantly fill me and my caterpillar sister with the notions that we where pressured on him. He had us for conformity. Everyone in the family wanted it, his wife wanted it, and so why not? Give the beasts what they want. This is what life and death are about… constantly he said, to the wormy boy especially, "never have kids" They are a pain.
Look: The child mind is being littered with a twinkling of the docks on a hardened cold Monday, weeping for the serenity of neon; bright filled afternoons under the baking sun. Filling up the gentle world in nostalgia.
Mom. Oh what a god damn enigma. I’m five years old and looking up at this lady who wants me to kiss and hug her. So I do. Over and over. To reassure her, of course, for her benefit… she tries to say it is also for me, but only in the most superficial way possible. Stormy, frigid, it’s snowing on the overpass now. Fucking down right cold. How do I get out?
Oh right I don’t. Another television set, another show to drown out the pain, wanting to jump off the balcony in first grade to end the pain. They say suicide is the easy way out, I say fuck you. It takes a lot of balls to willfully put out the only thing you’ve been put on this earth to do.
A far off wall being draped in sunshine day-glow colors, psychedelic space, little kids being cruel with each other on a soporific foreground. Evoking the wrath of the question, what it means to have lived your life. Sprouting out of the ground and turning inside and out until their meaty guts are fodder for the maggots which will infest their shamed insides.
Is this what you wanted, poor, stupid, parents? Oh, and humanity… don’t think for a second I also don’t hold you accountable.
My father was a man who’s life was sucked out of him, married at 18, kids late 20’s, he used to constantly fill me and my caterpillar sister with the notions that we where pressured on him. He had us for conformity. Everyone in the family wanted it, his wife wanted it, and so why not? Give the beasts what they want. This is what life and death are about… constantly he said, to the wormy boy especially, "never have kids" They are a pain.
Look: The child mind is being littered with a twinkling of the docks on a hardened cold Monday, weeping for the serenity of neon; bright filled afternoons under the baking sun. Filling up the gentle world in nostalgia.
Mom. Oh what a god damn enigma. I’m five years old and looking up at this lady who wants me to kiss and hug her. So I do. Over and over. To reassure her, of course, for her benefit… she tries to say it is also for me, but only in the most superficial way possible. Stormy, frigid, it’s snowing on the overpass now. Fucking down right cold. How do I get out?
Oh right I don’t. Another television set, another show to drown out the pain, wanting to jump off the balcony in first grade to end the pain. They say suicide is the easy way out, I say fuck you. It takes a lot of balls to willfully put out the only thing you’ve been put on this earth to do.
A far off wall being draped in sunshine day-glow colors, psychedelic space, little kids being cruel with each other on a soporific foreground. Evoking the wrath of the question, what it means to have lived your life. Sprouting out of the ground and turning inside and out until their meaty guts are fodder for the maggots which will infest their shamed insides.
Is this what you wanted, poor, stupid, parents? Oh, and humanity… don’t think for a second I also don’t hold you accountable.
