seed
I have my words ready
Your refusal to face me silences my
ability to spill more salacious secrets
which would ultimately implode
your sixtieth wedding fiesta
being held this June
Parental vessels who have transitioned into god
devoting useless prayer energy
with belief, my addictions to alcohol and gambling
were heroic trophies I embraced with joy
The same parents who were not present
on the playgrounds of life’s cruel circus
for years as bully bitch brats attacked my soul
with a daily mimic of my hammer blink,
I had developed during a period in my life where
I was subjected to multiple eye operations
My spirit factory shut down in grade school when
I witnessed how diabolically evil humans
could be to one another
You don’t need to punch someone in third grade
when the teachers are busy and seven charm fart kids are
spinning in their desks
mocking your blink, which you feel
cannot be controlled in these
wonder frown moments of impressionable life
father vessel taught me how to poison the neighbors
trees and plants, if said trees and plants were encroaching
on personal property lines
In the same category of neighbors but with a minor in
animal fecal dispatch arenas, I absorbed the
theatrical toss of dog shit from father vessel’s dichondra
into the sweaty seats of his nemesis’s open convertible Rabbit
My boiler pop moment arrived when I could not balance
all of the distractions that supported my land of make-believe
suffocating on pallets of sangria
Ironically, Distractions is the second hot wench thirst-quench center
father vessel is tethered to whenever there is a second to spare
but he advises the saucy whiskey service vessels are chubbier here
I torched my passion for alcohol almost two years ago
Prose infused with chalk dust powers my hourly smiles
free from the shackles of wasted, destructive moments of time
Humans sin
Money is the critical objective in your life, not love
This has been proven
Always and forever meant
sometimes, and only if we approve of everything
you do or attempt to do
I was born of your seed,
and I intend to change a
glitch in our family tree of shunning,
poisoned with generational dysfunction
rooted in appearances
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Berthed from mischievous leprechauns near technicolor shadow lands surrounding Honah Lee, Theodore Wallbanger rides mysterious sparkle railcars bursting with crunchy cotton candy clouds dispatched from slippery erotic massage vixens who rage pillow laugh hourly within a splintered transportation module that screams along butterscotch wonder tracks forming vibrations for audiences across Sugar Hill Mountain.
Artwork by Wallbanger
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