Chemically Peeled Inheritance

Don't you ever tell me that I wanted this
The definition of chemically peeled inheritance; you're scared of it, the sticky dysfunction, you think I'll spare you it or pour you a sip first to see if you care for it.

It isn't voluntary, darling, contrary to--
Not every pair of boots have straps to pull

You can't mulligan on dirt; grow from this
Choke on this, inhale salt water; cough up Soma bits

Larynx dry from pleading, I need permission for breathing, when anyone relieves me from the feeling that's been eating me, all of you who've been leeching, you accuse me of cheating, I'm needy, I'm teething, a cavernous whale that needs feeding

Swallowed the whole wide world
Got gutted by a bright eyed girl
Voicemail says I've got a new referral
New diagnosis but I can't remember the terms
Only here 'cause I promised and I keep my word

She's got my pupils in her sockets
And they're calling her Jenny
Her smile, that's hypnotic, she looks like a lady
She touts hobbies but no passion, in true feminine fashion
She's a certifiable genius and she bats my long lashes

I'm itching
Im itching
I'm itching

These are my callouses, my feet bloodied
I split my palms open but it's fine, I just feel a little funny

Every step faltered has been an I, not "we"
And still no apology for the way you treat me

You say you're disappointed in your daughter

But I don't see you leaving my alcoholic father

What will you blame me for next?
I'm only wanted for sex, I've lost my self-respect?

You think she sought after this? You want to know if she basks in it?

Do you answer your own questions or are you only asking it?

Sweet pea, lately have you seen me?
Your honey pot, she always says that she's leaving
One minute she's seething and then it's,
"Sweetie," she speaks so sweetly,

All these declarations but her hands are folded neatly
In her lap, she holds your spare key

Doesn't want to keep it but she fears that she'll need it

My smile isn't for any of you, it's for what we could have had-- what I'll forget when it's time to.

A tiny place of her own, thick-stalked flowers out her window; no one else can call it home.

 First editions, peeling leather, brunch on Sundays, calming weather.

My smile isn't for any of you, it's for what we could have had-- what I'll forget when it's time to.




Poetry by MsImaginary The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 96 times
Written on 2018-02-26 at 06:28

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Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
It is a powerful poem and very well written.
Ashe
2018-02-28


Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
I like many moments of this poem, most especially the felicity of seeing "mulligan," and the rhythm of the list in the second-to-last paragraph/stanza. I shall have to reread to absorb it more deeply, but initial impressions are positive!
2018-02-26