ArmageddonMature

I can't seem to stop writing things that make me want to cry! This is a description of the relationship between me and my mother. Make of it what you will.

Nine months of the most intimate contact,
Nine months of constant touch,
Nine months of hearing your voice in
the sac in which my body inhabited,

Sucking the lifeblood through a meaty chord,
human leech by choice and will,
you bled for me and for that I am grateful,

Agonizing pain for 35 hours,
screeching at the whole damn world,
‘get this fucking thing out of me’
and it did,

Sliding out in a gush of mucus and
the insides that man was not meant to see,
it slithered into the world with a blaring cry,

And you promised to love it for as long as you both shall live.

 

But it grew,
it grew up and out,
and stopped being the tiny promise of life,

It became the reason for not coming home,
it became the reason for ignoring phones in the afternoon,
it became the reason for looking for love elsewhere,

Anywhere but the half-tonne heretic in the second room on the left.

 

Its sixteen years since Armageddon,
and know each-other,
you do not.

Passing ships in the night,

You hate your child, but that’s okay,

Because your child hates you, too.

The End

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