Perfect Truth

photo of head bust print artwork
Photo by meo on Pexels.com

 

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

Mother

Wait for me to let go of the hanging

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