At thirteen,  
my sibling, my supposed partner,
in our disheveled family life  
taught me a different kind of warmth  
that comes from talking back.  
My ebullition  
was matched
with a violence that erupted
like a passionate applause  
for a trombone feature at the end  
of Mahler’s third symphony.  
Only this applause  
ended with  
a cold hand outstretched  
latching, to my wrist
as the other  
bare palm swung,  
into the lobe of my left ear
leaving behind
a warm, feverish  
crimson glow.

Patience is my super power
On full display every hour
If someone mad gets in my face
My patience helps me maintain grace

When railroad crossings block the road
I simply enter patient mode
If caught up in a traffic jam
My calmness filmed by traffic cam

Long checkout lines leave some irate
Patience helps me endure the wait
Restaurant wait times are the worst
Composure wards off loud outbursts

Patience is my super power
Keeps my life from going sour
One exception my Kryptonite
Sibling face-offs leave me uptight!

Our house was
Not really a house
Not to you at least
To you each room was
A whole world
A world that you saved
Or explored
Or destroyed


You created it with
Your mind
And then
Lived
In it

A unique experience
To be a different person
To escape this reality
If only for a few hours


And you never cared
What we thought of you
You never cared about our
Small smiles
And our stares
And our disapproving looks


You were set in that
Time and place
Nothing
Could tear you out
We faded away
Everything faded away
And was replaced with
Anything else
You could dream up

I walk through the doors,
Present the child with a tiny badge,
Yellow, white, purple, black.
I watch the smile spread across their face,
As I call them
"Captain; dear; Mx. Eli; child"
Do not tell me that they are not real
Do not tell me that they are confused
You have never known the inner workings
Of the mind of a child,
You dictate their thoughts and dreams and imaginary friends and fathers.
They are not confused
They know their mind
And they know the world they will grow up in
Will be nothing but cruel to them -
Nothing but cruelty to the little lost boys and girls and neithers,
Because if you cannot experience it then it must not be true,
And you must make up lies you imagine your father must have said
From his passive, uncaring position in the clouds,
Watching drama unfold like a game of Sims.
Tell me I'm going to hell. I'll see you there.
And never talk to my sibling like that again.

I tried not to cry
When you cut your wrist.

I recognised well,
What had happened,
When I walked through your door.

Your eyes,
Agony,
Bloodshot.

You ******:
Wounded,
Savaged.

The bandage-
Hurried.
Medic alert!

White on red
Solemn colours,
All a child’s eyes can see.

How I tremble
As that child’s mind-
Helpless.

All my strength,
My smarts
And I can’t move you

Out of that state,
Out of this place,
This Hell.

Please don’t die,
I can’t live
Without you.

I once drew a dinosaur scene on my grandparent's wall.

T-rex and long necks over 30 feet tall.

My raptor looked lonely so I thought I'd draw double.

"Wow. You're going to be in so much trouble."

My sister's comment came with such great surprise.

She didn't stop to see the detail in the Triceratop's eyes.

No compliments or critiques, she just walked on by.

She returned with a smirk and someone by her side.

My feeling of joy was replaced with pure dread.

Like the crayon I had dropped, my face, pure red.

Grandpa picked up the blood colored cylinder

He than showed me how add our family signature.

My grandpa would jest, as I nearly **** my long-johns: 

"You’re never too old to draw with crayons."