Dad was fat all his life
Obese
He couldn’t do a lot of things.
Walk without special help
Bathe
Climb stairs
Sit in a normal chair
Drive a normal car
Sleep in a normal bed
And say “I love you, son.”

To draw those words out
of his dad he became a cartoonist,
but that also failed.

And now that his father
was dead,
collapsed face down
on the kitchen floor,
blood seeping out of a head wound,
he struggled to turn him over
on his back
and dipped his finger in the blood
and drew a speech bubble
next to his father’s head
and wrote in it the famous words.

Finally.
“I love you too, dad.”

i'm being blamed for something i can't control

i can't stop bouncing my leg
i can't look you in the eyes when you speak to me
i can't stop my voice from shaking from shaking when you yell at me
i can't sleep at a normal time
i can't speak up when i'm being taken advantage of
i can't carry myself with the confidence you do
i can't do a lot of things, mom.

i can fake it all i want
i can say what you want to hear
i can push myself way harder than i need to
i can do too much and get you mad at me, again...

i just feel so restricted. albeit my own expectations or your strict hold on my collar; i just feel so restricted.

In the afterlife the creatures that
gathered around him
asked, “Why did you do it? Why
did you jump in
front of that train?”

He shrugged. “Life wasn’t
worth living anymore. And I wanted
revenge.”

“Revenge?”

“Yes, revenge.”

“On whom?”

“On the man driving the train, obviously.
My wife was divorcing
me, a lawyer, to be with a
locomotive engineer. Can you believe that?
So I had to do
something about it. I jumped in
front of his train
and now he’s got PTSD, depression,
he’s about to lose his job,
my wife has second thoughts
about being with him. His life’s nasty, alright.”

“Woah... you’re a smart man.”

"when i was 5, 6, 7
up until i was 11
my mom said my other mom left to get some milk,
the other moms and dads blamed it on my other mom
because she was a mom instead of a dad
but that didn't make any sense bc she beat me like a dad.

the nudges and the kicks,
no wonder she looked so buff,
my mom, the one that's here,
did track! and she only beats me when i do something wrong,
or if she had a bad day at work,
or if i do my hair in a weird way,
or if i get a B on my tests!

she said she does it cause she loves me,
and i love her too - she must be going through a lot,
i wish my other mom loved her as much as i did though,
i never see my mom, my other mom said she wanted to break up -
that made my mom really mad -
and she took me away from her.

thinking back on it, maybe my mom didn't like me all that much."

the way she stomps on the floor
complaining for minutes at a time
then falling onto the couch in a huff
"what happened in the show?"
and i explain, already getting up to get her some milk
(she likes milk after a tantrum)
i'm back and she's watching the show, newfound focus
i smile, knowing that sometimes she can be calm

"did you **** them?"
- **** is a strong word dr. nice legs, i prefer the term sent back
"sent back?"
- yes, sent back - they were at one place so i sent them back
"so you... sent them back? back where?"
- oh it's a place that doesn't exist, not to me, not to anyone
"heaven?"
- oh no, gosh no, why are making up words dr. pen in mouth?
"hell?"
- if you mean h-e-double hockey sticks then you're sadly mistaken
"underworld, olympus? give me a clue or something."
- ah ah i said it doesn't exist, how do i give you a clue for something that doesn't exist dr. frowny face?
"describe your feelings towards it."
- home