Nuclear Family / Dysfunction
I feel as if it would have been
less harrowing if the slander was
fervidly spat in my face.
At least I would have known
there was a possibility that
the scarlet red veil,
which would have abridged reasoning,
seeped into your pores
and fueled you with an anger
that spewed a hyperbolic language.
Instead, you whispered it,
and every syllable coated the walls
of my heart
and left an irrevocable
stain on its
plain rouge.
The same rouge
that I tore from my chest
and clawed into the
naked wall
which you designed so dull and bare.
The same wall that you
scream at, in anger,
every night, begging that
The Lord will remove
my stain of honesty
and revitalize this supposed
jovial existence of mine.
An existence which you wish
to encapsulate within your omniscient
hand.
This same hand
that built this
wall
for all to see.
The same wall
that you cringe at
if any
tinge of
diversity bleeds onto the wall.
The same tinge of diversity
that I identify with and
appreciate.
This same appreciation
that is slandered
by your spiteful
fork tongue.
The same fork tongue
that spoke the words
that coerced my eyes
to dissolve into a saline river
of depression and
coerced my hand
to find sanctuary
on the paper that begs for
my pains to be enumerated.
For my pains to be enumerated.
For my heart to find lax.
For my heart to find lax.
For my heart to find lax.