Stop me if you’ve heard this one before:
Shut up. Take a breath. Take a lot of hard looks. Take a moment, a little still piece, where you can reach inside yourself and pull all those stupid loose change lies off your open and out the new. Take an opportunity when it’s given to you. Take easy off the veins. Take a breath.
Listen, you liar:
You’ve done quite long enough to realize just how much of life is taking, and you should know by know how much waste and worship you’re allowing by just sitting around. Repeat after me: I am a worthless, stupid child. I am a little idiot bit of conductive tissue. I am the mistaken shitface product of a misguided pornographic interest and a few too many, nothing more important than a spill on the floor and a clog in the drain. Say it all again. Give some time and think it over. Louder, you liar. I’m talking to you.
Hey, you:
Worthless. Move out of the way, I’m not finished yet. Don’t say a word, don’t call anybody. Just sit in the high chair and listen to your hands. Now. Let’s reflect back on all the things you’ve done wrong. Do you remember puking your guts out all over the guestroom sofa? Do you remember when you had to call me to change a tire? How many days did you play sick to keep out of school? What was that lie on the phone? What happened to all those desperate knots you tied, underaged crying home on a friday night? What’s that worthless smirk doing there? What’s it like being down and out on the bedroom floor, cocked in the stupid misguided halfchild memory of masturbation and sick? What’s it like to be you?
Don’t move a muscle:
Little cripple, somebody ruined your life. Somebody told you you’d grow up just fine. Somebody left you to die underneath the tarmac while mummy and daddy were looking for reasons. Somebody knows who did this to you. But you’re too small. Stupid. You can’t put any of the pieces together by yourself. You can’t take responsibility for needing to be this way, can’t own up to all the spit in the back of your throat, can’t reach up to bite the hand that feeds you, appleseed and desperate breath, paypig slug and sister games, so instead you dance around and lie to me again and again and again and again, lying just because it’s all you know that being is. How did you ever grow up to be such a trick? How did you manage to fail yourself so badly? How did it feel, you liar, when I told you the last time that I’m finished and you’re trash and there’s nothing anybody could do to help you? Did it feel good? Did it give you any reasons? Any clues? Any stupid hints for a stupid child playing stupid games? I bet not, you liar. I bet not.
Shut up:
Take a breath, just one more before I go. Take a moment out of your worthless child life to thank me for everything I’ve done for you. Take the time, take easy knowing I’ll never see you again and that you’ll always try your hardest not to either. Take a chance. Take off. Take a breath.