geneology

the natural feeling takes us naturally awry

i can see only
two generations bearing down;
ciphers:
mother / sex / beat down / nothing left

let's project

rosary beads, thick glasses, thick ankles.
quiet iowan farms with white houses;
outliving the bastards -

no, outlasting.

the life left when they said "we do"
and followed suite with needys, little shitting needys
who sustained the 18 year minimum -

back to black
but hair going grey, the once-craved stomach/breasts melting into mother-flesh
another question mark once the bed's gone cold
and the growl punctuates Big Daddy's disappointment -
"bitch let herself go"
as if some beligerant God betrayed him
.
let's raise children
and let them see
that love means endurance, silence, bodies, distance, crude remarks, regret

yes let's

.
and now you
you think
you think it's easy
your patience runs short
when i fail to perform

so easy it should be
"bitch bores me"
cuts short the rope
and turn away



never mind.
your type i've known.
my mother's known, my grandmother's known, my everymother in my blood has known and
groveled before.
this blood is accustomed
but going to fucking break its heart
before it settles, acquieses, agrees

to pitiful complaints;
this conceit of "love"
complacent
and
(hollow)
cocksure