and so; here it is. i fuss like a ******* her wedding day, bustling, bursting with trepidation. i can see right through your skin and you look nothing like the pictures; rotten, rancid, revolting.
     i look in the mirror.
     im just like my father.
and so; here it is. i scrape the black out from under my eyes with my fingernail and flick it onto the floor. retribution! i say, i leave pieces of me everywhere! youll never forget this face!
     that face? the one you loathed so deeply?
and so; here it is. i find myself missing the warmer months again, pressing dandelions into the dirt, too high to speak. the air was easier to breathe in back then; less pressure, less dust.
     i was soft as butter and
     now i will be as hard as a stone.

id ask you if you knew how tragic you looked but you just turned away. i cant stand being rabid. my blood is toxic, volatile. no one can ever hurt me.

i stand my ground, pathetic and puffy-faced. i dont want to be fragile, i want to have control. i am disposable.

i dont know how to explain this to my mother. hate has hands like a vice.