ADDLE-BRAINED CORKSCREW
CONFUSED MONSTER-MAN
There was a time when, between moments of clarity,
my raging sensations made me seem quite mad.
My father had me sent away, my mother wrung
her constant hands in anguish - it was always
as if the 'other' shoe had not yet dropped.
Perhaps they thought I would blow up the world.
Her washcloth and dish towel, I remember, used
to hang distended - one around her neck, one over
her wrist - as she cried. Mostly about me, and the
anguish I was causing. All of this made me feel quite
bad, yet I could never articulate my pain.
My father, after the occasional beating
he'd inflict on me, on the other hand,
never said a word - certainly no 'I'm
sorry', and nothing that ever, in any
way showed reflection of what had
been occurring. Eventually, I
went back home with them.
-
No sainted martyrdom was ever more pathetic.
My life was a sorry spectacle, and I grew in
clumps I couldn't recognize. A few years of this,
one of that, another that - anger, hurt, creativity,
compensation, existential rage, love, lust.
Everything a'kimbo and all jumbled harsh
together. I was my own worst guardian,
oftentimes not on speaking terms
even with myself.
-
Addle-brained corkscrew confused monster-man.
Confusing, mixed-up, angry, delinquent vogue boy.
All those things, and so much more, they said, was I.
CONFUSED MONSTER-MAN
There was a time when, between moments of clarity,
my raging sensations made me seem quite mad.
My father had me sent away, my mother wrung
her constant hands in anguish - it was always
as if the 'other' shoe had not yet dropped.
Perhaps they thought I would blow up the world.
Her washcloth and dish towel, I remember, used
to hang distended - one around her neck, one over
her wrist - as she cried. Mostly about me, and the
anguish I was causing. All of this made me feel quite
bad, yet I could never articulate my pain.
My father, after the occasional beating
he'd inflict on me, on the other hand,
never said a word - certainly no 'I'm
sorry', and nothing that ever, in any
way showed reflection of what had
been occurring. Eventually, I
went back home with them.
-
No sainted martyrdom was ever more pathetic.
My life was a sorry spectacle, and I grew in
clumps I couldn't recognize. A few years of this,
one of that, another that - anger, hurt, creativity,
compensation, existential rage, love, lust.
Everything a'kimbo and all jumbled harsh
together. I was my own worst guardian,
oftentimes not on speaking terms
even with myself.
-
Addle-brained corkscrew confused monster-man.
Confusing, mixed-up, angry, delinquent vogue boy.
All those things, and so much more, they said, was I.
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