It's hard to blame my mother for everything. It's hard not to.
She split the atom that split the ones after.
If you could see her and know her affect, you would know why I do.
She started this train wreck long before I was born.
Her presence is a miasma that hangs in the air and suffocates.
Her eyes are flat black and lifeless.
They scan for something good to extinguish.
She enters a room, and the room becomes darker.
I always expected to look below her house coat and see no feet jutting out.
Just her hovering like an apparition.
The looks that she used to manipulate men are gone.
What is left is flesh bruised by years of taking blood thinners
I will ever understand her zeal for screwing people over.
She is motivated by things that are only known to her.
I wouldn't want to know them if she wanted to tell.
I 've heard more than I ever want to.
As far as there ever being even an attempt at a healthy dynamic between her and those of us that are left.
It's too late.
Maybe in another life.
Not this one.