heart on my sleeve/rip out my soul  

rm_bedlemprime 57M
7 posts
11/23/2005 8:57 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

heart on my sleeve/rip out my soul


Trapped like a rat by my own word,
My word is true,
for it is all that a man has.
Deathbed promise of Paternal trust
Take care of your mom and the boys
for I cannot.
Don't worry dad
I'll figure it out
Somehow, I will get it done.
Eightteen months to the day,
The failure stench wraps about me,
A stinking shroud.
Maternal decay day by day
the sniping Queen of Shrews
Nasty,Angry,Critical,Spiteful
Never a good word or simple thank you.
Her stroke damaged gait
dragging foot cross the floor,
Her wheezing breath from a 13 step climb.
Forty eight years and nine months
dad survived her, somehow.
I barely survive 48 days.
She is far too mean to die.
Sister's kids, Tweaker Spawn
Sewer mouthed rudeness,
Bone lazy and theives
out of control and do as they damn well please.
We don't have to listen to you,
You are not my dad.
Your dad was a and tweaker
who died a year ago of overdose.
His dad is a theif and tweaker,
living five blocks away,
he sees him only when conveniant
to his Jones and his current slut.
Your mother is brain burned by meth
She can barely care for herself.
Your stepfather is pimp and tweaker,
sitting in a prison cell,
Sweetheart of Cellblock C
with his toothless mouth
and fantasy woman tattooed across his collerbone.
His brother inhabits death row
for killing little girl and prison guard.
Constant battles between these three,
Vice City wannabe's versus
midwestern small town piety.
All hopelessly delusional in their beleifs.
Mindless Teenage Hormonal Devestation
trashing house from door to door.
She retreats behind locked bedroom,
I face two brutes alone.
Dumb enough to move back in
for awhile, to help out,
Because we need you here now.
Sleeping on cold couch for
no one will give up a room for uncle.
If they would die, then I am free
to finish a legion of projects
started in halfassed fashion.
The house would look so nice if only,
it was simply finished up, and clean.
The only Home I have ever known
The only place I have ever wanted.
haunted by the denizon's of Dante's bolgia.
Each tick of the clock
a second, a minute, an hour, a day
week, month,year,decade lost to them.
Mealy mouthed fat preacher says,
"Give it all to God"
I watched dad give his life to the church
that allowed him to do the heavy work
while other men took all the credit
and he was voted out of fellowship.
Cheif of police eyeballs me
as he drives past.
Wondering when I will Whitman
from tall tower some crisp afternoon.
I was never that mundane.
Do your emergency plans cover
psychological vandelism and psychic warfare?
I understand scorched earth policy,
When you've nothing left to lose,
leave nothing left behind.
Howling, Screaming, Ripping,Tearing
Carotid spurting beneath my teeth.
RELEASE THE HYENAS!
Even my dreams are lost to me,
nightmares of them I cannot escape.
If they would die,then I am free.
If I would die, then I am free.
If I walk away as brother did
or escape into meth induced madness like sister.
I can not go mad, It is not my way.
I can not leave, I gave my word.
I can not die with so much undone.
I can not stay as I die each day.
Silently screaming at night alone.
Hello Zarathustra, Are you there?
It is me, John.
I read Sun Tzu, for he gives me patience
I follow the Tao, for it gives me peace
I walk Siddhartha's Eight Fold Path
in hope it will lead me to a place of my own.
Nothing seems to change.
It would all somehow be easy
if only I'd but get laid.
Whereas, I have the inclination,
the experiance and the wherewithal,
I, alas, dear lady,
have not the time.

written by Dr. Bedlem
a wholly owned subsidiary of bedlemprime inc.
The biggest lunatics are remembered.
The rest just get thorazine.



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