This is a growing collection of my stories. I appear to favour writing about sex and death, not always together. I'm also writing two books. Some days it feels like most other people inhabit a world where you can aimlessly wander into vendor-created wonderlands and purchase things you never knew you needed - for entertainment. The mind boggles. I believe it's because I wasn't allowed to watch television as a child. I just don't get some things. I'm ok with that

Thursday, May 13, 2010

aside from that Mrs Lincoln, how was the opera?









the only thing I wanted was for you to love me.
the only thing I really wanted was for you not to die.
I don’t really know how I feel about you
actually
and
now I won’t ever have to know.

I don’t mind that you hit me a couple of times and
I grew out of the mental abuse that comes of neglect
but I never understood why you were so selfish.

neither did she

and its hard to know who was in the wrong. All I see is my mother’s wasted life

look what sticks in your guts when you're forced to look back
look what happens when you never take risks
look what happens when you’re an arsehole who’s tight with their money

who’s to say if you tasted blood when I asked my brother to punch you?
you were only asking for it
I remember you hitting the floor

I wanted to see teeth on the ground

You made my guts ache with your pain
that special kind,
that only a fist to the eye can deliver
but
you don’t even have to do it any more for me to feel it

Is it dark in there with the warmth of the light turned off?

I never played sport because of you
and
I couldn't let girls hug me
it would have hurt too much
if I winced
they’d have looked for the bruises
that’s ok
you won’t be thinking of me
ever
again

it’s a cold, heavy trust that I hold in the pit of me
you are gone you are gone
You…

but I wanted you to love me
and it’s a terrible thing to wish for a death,

even yours

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