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Join Date: Feb 2013
Posts: 596
Battle Record: 13-19
Rep Power: 0
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it's hotter everyday on this side of the breeze,
on the right side of the tracks, far from residing in peace,
go to church every sunday, confide in a priest,
then pray a better me escapes some corner of being,
where this storm of flaws' growing swollen and red,
picked raw till there's a hole there instead, souls barren and dead,
bring home the bread and pick up after his fits,
cook dinner and douche often, squeeze together my tits,
never were rich, but the Robinson dinner's at the table each night, right?
never scream, my husbands only raping my mind, why..
..who would i tell? nothings enough, yet everyone else's perfect,
in the family pictures, i only look a little nervous,
anyways, all you ever see is the surface, it's full of smiling faces,
relying on Gods graces, radiating patience and ingratiating praises,
tension forms behind curtains, so i send my son out to play,
out a vicarious character, inheriting Dad's sorrow from back in the day,
but he sensed tomorrows importance, and the kid cherished it,
while other kids harassed him cuz his hands were downy soft embarassments,
he couldn't pound at all, handshakes lead to wincing grimaces,
and he always tried to stand up to a different image. its..
the line of scrimage "HUT HUTT," this gilligand's isle?
images of the skipper with his hat, berating my child..
he waited and smiled, til the ball smacked his dainty grasp
he faintly gasped, pig skin pegged to his saintly hands,
"RUN YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he said like a condescending bigot..
I didn't like that. said it right back, with a sarcastic tone,
met with a spastic moan, and an emphatically thrown hand to talk to,
that i tried to walk through, like i'd have fought too, but i dropped,
boom. lawsuit, rich. took the house and left the kid with the cops,
its the limits of options given to middle classes recipients,
leading to would be indigents society's turned to litigants,
where indifference to self creates omnipotent frail fingered wannabe's,
baby boomers consumed the middle class, giving birth to hand model nominees.
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