November 24, 2002

sunday gloom

your mother said, "Dieing"
unsure as she always is
timid, and beat till nothing was left
i sit on the edge of my sunday life,
wondering who your associating this words with
i click away,
word to word afraid to miss it,
make or break it.
tv runs muted in the back
as i crunch my way down
to the bottom of another bowl,
it's the food that keeps me lean.
then you type in my IM,
my dad died monday :/
in my mouth, crunch by crunch
i see you turn, you know you do.
into a boy of 6, or 10
flicking at the toys you've strun around the room
cris-cross like applesauce.
KaBaM you are a terrified kid.
so tiny and broken,
unable to cry
you laugh as if nothing is caught in your throat,
it is so hard to find you after she's left.
your so quiet and timid, everything she will forever be.
no more smiles on your pillows, from the adults who i call mean
like that could have helped you, all that fucking in-between
you'll say it doesn't matter, you don't know him,
he left you.
somehow, i'm not buying it
as you scribble down your thoughts
"he died and left me nothing," you ::sigh::
"it's better then what he gave me....before."

before - after