Monday, April 30, 2012

a little brother

"She wasn't worth it" he thought to himself, she's dead to me anyway.
"But dad!" I yelled, "She's my mom!" I was pleading with him. He's this this eh.. Eastern European kinda guy. Not very tall. "Dad think bout it?" I said. I needed him to understand how much I need the money. "dad, I need this to start my business." I was upset. "Dad, you just came back from fucking France!" He didn't give a shit. "Dad, I have a kid to feed!" I was pleading.
"Son!" He'd say, "Your wrong!" He had this eastern European accent. I had this grandma back in Poland, she "sends her blessings!" it's funny the way he'd say it."She loves you!"
"She loves me!" she doesn't want to fucking know me, his mother disowned me! He got married, they were together, she was French, but fuck! My mom looked Japanese! We always told crazy stories. "Your mom hated mine, she thought, mom was beneath you DAD!" Fuck, my father believed his mother, what an asshole. I look different too, but I speak six languages. Something bout that eastern European baby boomer hippie punk type of pansy out there; always sacred of the runway, the red tape. He had a heart attack last year. Fucker!
I remember knocking at the door. It was a barren landscape, the garden, the trees, whatever they had was torn out. Up Rooted, but they never moved. The house just washed away. "Dad?" I 'd ask. "Fuck, I need you.' I called em an asshole, I couldn't help it. "Fuck he never knew," but he did. Everyone does. He never cared, he related to life like the rest of them, he gave up. "Hosed down! Eroded!"  There was nothing beneath him. "His life went bad" I watched as he fell.
"What are you taking bout?" with that accent he was an asshole. And I'd laugh. "I must survive!" He said that. He got married to stay alive. A sweetness, she brought over him. "She loves me son, and I love her!"
"He's a liar!" I yelled,  I  told him "No". He laughed at me. Our neighbor.
"No it's true!" it sounded distant, I was eating, drinking, "You didn't know? Yeah They're married!" It was for survival. He held on," to her!" Always fucking logical. 
"You were dead to her!" She had him, my father, at her first husbands death bed. I remember growing up how badly he beat her. Eventually though she killed him. A strategy! And she caught my father.
"I want to talk to him" I have to plead with him. I see inside of him. There is this heartless soul in him and I look into his eye's always trying to remember.
"Dad" I remember him playing soccer with me. "Dad! I'm a good goalie!" I try but I don't remember him. He was there for me, he still is. "Family is not logical! It's a pleasure and it hurts to breath!" But out of the black holes comes a reflection .
"Dad? .. Where is Babcia?"I could see his breath, it was cold,  he speaks Polish.

I'm a dirty proletariat. But who isn't?
"You're gorgeous!" and she is still."I bet, I love her so much!" no one's listening, idiots. I love them so much.
"How the fuck do you get out of this" This is all some dream of pent up repression. Lol. Yeah. Really no one can do a decent psycho analysis. I have everything I want.... except

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