think this time; it's not going to be funny. I
think this time, someone might get hurt.
I remember the injustices of the past. Cowering
in corners. Shitting on floors. Forced into forgiveness.
me. Please. Give me a chance to make it up to
me in your warm arms again so I can strike. Bring
me close to your heart so I can bite into it,
a mouth thick with what should be your blood.
My venom will be stronger than yours. The urine
flowing through your veins will kill you in the
end. I'll be able to smell it in the dark. I can
smell the things you have been eating. Candy should
make you sweet, Bunny. You hide in the bathroom
curled behind the toilet, and I can smell you
there. Longish hair falls in front of your sick
face. I wish I could say it was pockmarks from
self-surgery but your skin is as smooth as the
porcelain you rest it upon...besides the shit
smears. And is the shit in your house from your
ass or are you clean like you are supposed to
you want this to happen? (I have to think you
dark in the bathroom right now, and you're probably
trying to remember better times you had there.
It might be hard. Every time you trap a moment
of joy in your head, the touch of the cool linoleum
curling up in the corners on your heels and the
mildewed carpet under at least eight of your toes
brings you back to right now. If only you could
get your toes off of that fucking carpet....you've
seen Vena in the mornings, as you two get ready
for school, piss all over that carpet. You know
that's just the way he is, so you don't get mad
but you do get a little grossed-out even though
he's your brother. Mom says he has trouble listening,
so she went to a doctor and got him little pink
pills to make him pay more attention in school.
try to be still. Back pressed against the wall.
Tiny dinosaur bones pressed against the wall through
a thin and faded nightshirt. You remember the
first time you saw it...Christmas morning. That
was when you and Vena still looked alike. You
got matching kimonos and fake fur bears bigger
than him but not you. You were turning into a
worse person by the second. You were something
to be ashamed of. You were something to be burned.
should have hid in the closet. The closet already
smells like urine, so I would have never known
you were in there. You pissed in there because
you were an animal, a small beast reveling in
the scents you should have been ashamed of. Hunched
low to the ground far in the corner letting the
waves of piss run down your legs and sitting in
it. Small red raised welts like thousands of ants
had bit you on the inner part of your thighs.
The uncomfortable part was the most fun. The most
things you did to me just by your presents. The
things you sat through are unforgivable. And now
I can remember...you crying.
wanted to hurt you more because of the crying.
Twist your skin into flower patterns. Bite only
your fingers until they bled and then tell you
I would let you go if you could only open the
door. You're fumbling with the knob, blood and
tears smearing, making it impossible to open.
Screaming in frustration. Snot coming into play
with the sweat and the tears and the blood. A
lovely strawberry milkshake down the front of
only I could make you understand. I'm doing this
so you won't turn into me. So you won't have to
remember. Memory is the worst thing. I'm saving
you. Call me Christ in the mornings and call me
patients at night.