when i was a child
i drew an outline
of my future
with broken chalk
across the side
of a road that
no longer exists

you see
when the eyes
persist
they reimagine
the past as some
kind of bad joke,
or a science
experiment

when i was a child
i was forced to make
love to people
who didn't deserve
it;

i guess asking
for permission
didn't exist back
then

or were we all too
scrambled in our brains
to get our bodies
to do what we say?

instead they just gave
into their instincts
and impulses

our tiny naked bodies
under ***** blankets;
tightened fists, kicking legs
and strained muscles

the trees outside
still swayed as though
they never had mouths
to feed, as though
they weren't desperate
to think, feel, or be
free

it all came so naturally...

when i was a child
i broke twigs in two,
kicked empty beer
cans, and poked
rollie pollies
in their bellies
until they got
sick and threw up

i laughed, cried
and wished that
i could die

i did this well
into my late
twenties

until i realized
i was going to live
for a long time

then i said **** it,
**** the world,
**** the creator
he, or she
doesn't exist

they were never
there to stop
my father
from his routine
abandonment

they were never
there to stop
my mother
from withholding
nourishment

sometimes
there aren't enough
words and wishes
to conceal the truth
from it's own existence

it has to live
in order for
me to die

perhaps, it's been a joke
all this time and i've
been to stuck up
to spare a laugh
or two

i smile more
than i often believe
i should

but at least
i know my body
is strong enough
to rebel against my fate

when my mind is
too afraid to make
the change