September 6, 2006

Sitting stoically,
solitary in a confinement on the mind.
Thoughts and shadows, swirling nastily
like sick fascinations, riding a tilt-a-whirl.
This is the place,
the confinement,
the time,
the one occasion
to find out what is wrong,
What should be wrong
Why am I so
[fucked up]
not right and unintentionally tense
[how about my head? how unscrewed?]
And here is where I realize that
those orange bottles
hold wisdom and a mother-like
caress of soothing and rationality.
What about the time
[I accidentally fell, goddamnit]
you made those bruises on my face?
Or when you told me
[how much you loved me]
that I was the worst, the least,
the most
irritating one.
[Love you so much, you’re my favourite].

how much my fault
and faulty accusations,
dealt and covered and hidden and
smothered. Closed
[silence, okay? just be quiet]
Lost childhood,
where are those memories?
Pinks and blues
and smiles and laughs.
Parties and vacations
all lost to such a wrong
encounter
of the wrong side of the
hand that fed.

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