I am jealous of you dad
And your innate ability to forfeit tradition and consequence.
Your steamboat chugs of mopey "not on me's"
I envy you dad!
And your leather skin. Your age
(andtheageyoupretendtobe).
I am green over you dad!
Your sluggish tongue and fatigued lips.
Tired from explaining.
(orblubberingexcuses).
Emerald from your twisted lies and gavel. Your bloated tummy full of rum.
How you can leave with a drawer left in the dresser. Miscellaneous things you may need if you show.
Your elusive talents. There but not really.
Such a prize of prolific piles that stink!
Puss from your gash.
Slashes from my wrist you wore on your sleeves.
Punishing me with second helpings of ungrateful brat. Stomach almost bursting like your own.
I hope she never sees you how mom had to.
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Comments1
So intense and bitter it is haunting and beautiful and painful. Elusive talents, bloated tummy, stinking piles... I guess we all have known someone who gets way with it... forfeiting consequences as you so beautifully put it. Real art takes courage, and this is as brave as a personal poem can be. I am glad you shared it. I hope you know you can trust your readers to sympathize and support.
This is probably the sweetest thing I've ever read. I appreciate this more than you know. THANK YOU!
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