The honorary bastard

Mazapan mornings

Make their way toward memorial nights
by malt liquor public transport
A little boy that doesn’t know he’s created a barricade
between shopper and register in line at the safe way
momentarily fills my eyes with
self check out tears
I’m so nervous thinking the automated teller can tell I forget about the cans I stashed in my bag when the road was blocked

I understand again
(always the first time)
a mothers sacrifice
A bit of her torn away
By force or love

(a line drawn so thin as if it were erasing itself with it’s own permanence some sort of snake sick on its self comes to mind)

The constant colonizer pulls out
A bit of body churned out 9 months later
already Racing
toward
death

Mother I never
knew you
’til now
and now
I know why

the cards never play
why god and you
keep such a distance
why love and misfortune
tear my flesh in
different directions
though one’s a bit better
at this game
of extramundane tug o war
one who’s a bit more invested
more of the possessive type
like I might have been if possession
was ever more that just a moment before the inevitable
letting go
that never
lets go

it
never
goes

Mother of earth
Mother of mine
Bastard child choosing
To choose for the first time
Kill the father
Rape the head
Kill the father
At birth comes death
And then he’s dead

and

then

he’s

dead

I believe no good comes at an individual for the good they’ve done
But all sins (sons)
Must be atoned for
Coward man and dying child
Cursed by actions of the former
Ice bath heart
Swollen with sentient infection