Collateral damage

is pretty crappy.
Trigger happy,
What a trippy thought
I'm a hippie, caught
Up in the moment
Swimming against the current
without much thought
without her pot.

They

Drugs were my comfort
because she salted my wounds
Strange men were my counsel
because he squandered my dignity and worth.

Slandered, threatened, demonized
Yet neither feel the need to listen or sympathize.
Except to criticize
Something that is a by-product of their ignorance.

My voice ripped out of my throat, and my right to exist as myself.
Locked into a prison of ideologies and condemnation
Planting fear and shame into my daily walk
An enemy, beasts and demons created within me,
Nurtured by Their self-denial
Self-righteous
Self-hatred was my home, Suicide my prayer

In this ideo-fuckin-logical lair
To my left, Punishment
To my right, Failure
Above me was Damnation
Below me all Hell

broke loose to set the shit free that hit the fan-
fare that cost me a life worth living for-
feit
everything

They pretend that this struggle is a figment of my imagination
A sitcom goof, a casual stumble
Slip of the mouth, by mere folly
Slip of the mental process
to process and filter
what they wanted me to hear

But

Negligent manslaughter is a crime too
In the process of Their effort to hide their own weaknesses
Exploiting me for mine

Filia

Sisterly, orderly
Inferiorities hover
over and over
through former endeavors
From only to never
It's clever, you're clever.

Fatherly, motherly
wondering somberly,
Hoping and wander
from moment to moment
Such wonder, such awfully
Sorrowful hunger.

for

A scuba Diver on the ocean floor

I was replaying my faceless past like a
recurring nightmare in fast
Forward the pauses catch a fish that swells with
the oceanful expression of agony on my face.

these persisent
Sisters are sirens with silver scars
And mercury tears.
to sing to
No moon, sweet music
My brown yarn baby doll, lips
Lips
Over my soft eyelids, folding

There are still life Van Goghs in my
memory aquarium
like koi fishes swimming in a carafe
in a knot

But yet I have not my submarine home
twisting faces on a piano scale
And a wooden skeleton of family portraits
Rattle nervously on a bruised wall

Sketch, tetch, wretched
sketching skeletons in my head.
Emaciated, faces
tracing laces through the threads.