Perfect Truth

photo of head bust print artwork
Photo by meo on


I do not want to come to Brooklyn

even though I miss you

I am harmed by sadness

a depression you can’t shake

I am harmed by moods from another world

I am bothered by the smell of mom on you

Taken aback by my father on your arms


I love you as much as I love myself but

I am tired of trying to

Fly across the world for your happiness


You have an anger that has grown            beyond

The trees, a wildfire in the pit of your stomach

I have tried to soothe you with perfection

Perfection.     I do not have readily available


But mother I am crawling from home

Erasing Brooklyn from memory

for just a moment of peace


Mother you know that depression soaks my brain

in thick custard

that anger chills my spine

Anxiety opens hells gate

My heart, my heart, my, my

You know

perfection is the limp string sewing me together

Perfection was the curtain our broken windows


Please spare me the guilt

Of not wanting to paint over beer


I am worried about myself

Dripping into the shower drain

Worried about flying into the sun

Jumping barefoot from the roof in Brooklyn


Wait for me to let go of the hanging

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