eating with toes

love and marriage

i was born in cincinnati to two people who never shoulda existed anywhere on the same planet, much less gotten married to each other. my dad never shoulda married anyfuckinbody. ever. as for my mom, it's prolly a good thing she married my dad cuz i don't think i would've liked having the same genes as her oldest fuck-up. brothers i got; sisters, debatable. i heard about a girl, born to my father and slightly older than i, whose mother was so pissed that my dad was already married with me on the way that she sent spirits to torment my dad til the day he died. it's good he died. he needed the rest.

way the story goes, they were strong enough that my mom saw my dad picked up and tossed across a room like a ragdoll livin in a movie. she, my dad's other woman, also tried to switch my soul with that of the other child because she was sickly and i was not. dunno how that went for her, but then she tried to switch my mom's soul with my stepmom's, just to fuck with him. my stepmom's a crazy bitch. if they thought that my dad would just roll over for that one, they had another think comin. 'course she wasn't a crazy bitch while he was alive. that happened shortly after she got remarried and started makin grabs for the land my dad left me in myrtle beach. phuc dat bich. but she doesn't really come into the story at all, in fact, until i accidentally manipulated my dad into having some doctor accuse my mom of child abuse for tryin to beat the shit outta me and one of my brothers for hangin with my dad when it wasn't his turn. phuc dat bich.

yea, i was growing into quite the little manipulator, but that's what happens when two natural born peopleipulators torment each other in a steadily more frequent manner for the first ten years of their first child's life. by the time i was ten, i was probably about fifteen and not lovin even any minute of it. not to say i did not have good times. i loved it when my nose bled and my ma would meet me at the hospital, take me home, and lay my head in her lap while we finished off our mcdonald's before the boys got home and watched soap operas all afternoon. oh . . . so that's where i got indoctrinated into that happily-ever-after bullshit . . .

well, at least she didn't read me fairy tales. i think i woulda cut my own jugular if i'd had to grow up and find out that prince charming was a lie. it's not so bad with real people cuz at least there's a chance that it might happen like that--i mean, somebody has to write that shit, right? but to find out that not only was it not true, but that people like that didn't even exist anymore . . . if ever . . .
oh, somebody's bed woulda burned whitehot.

i never had tantrums, though. for one thing, i somehow genetically knew to not pull shit like that. not with my parents, boyo. my dad woulda smacked my ass clear across somebody's cheerios aisle if i'd've pulled that shit. instant death if ya want it. each of my parents only hit me once, and my stepmother, never. i was around elevenish when my mom hit me; that was what prompted the aforementioned child abuse claim. i was sixteen when my dad did, and neighbors had to call the cops cuz after i smacked him back, it was on. when they got there, he had me down across the arm of the couch, probably trying to fend off the kicking and biting that led to my teethmarks on his right forearm. my incisers cut through his thick winter coatsleeve; some fuckin dentist filed'em down shortly thereafter when my wisdom tooth had to be cut in. that was my first exposure to codeine. i still love narcotics. not with a passion . . . with a . . . nice, easy lust like the one i felt at the age of seven when my upstairs seven-year-old neighbor girl became my first crush affair. i loved to just sit and watch her play. she liked dolls, i think. i didn't care; she was my doll. she was outrageously beautiful with this long, soft black hair that reached down to her midback and these exotic eyes that made her look afriasian, sorta like my mom's when she first wakes up in the mornin or from a nap. she was narcotic. my mom's narcotic. my dad liked narcotics too. isn't that interesting.

i'm fallin half asleep.

it's been real.

No comments: