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I had the best Aim in Kindergarten
In my invisible straight-jacket I saw it all.
My mother’s frail body laying on the floor…
and my dad’s fists covered in more blood and hair each time they raised up
again.
I was 5
I was paralyzed.
I knew my mother was still conscious,
but she had stopped crying and screaming.
Truth is, she stopped crying and screaming years before.
And I was only 5, but as I watched this
I remember so vividly wanting to kill my father.
I had my first homicidal urge at age 5.
That particular day is long long gone.
Everyone’s all healed up nicely on the outside.
Back in those days of my early childhood I had a gun held to my head
by my father so many times that I stopped counting.
“You do so and so or your baby dies.”
Every time it happened I thought…this is going to be the day when
she’s just gonna say…”Go ahead and do it.”
No apples
No bells
Just the huge presence of my dad, squashing the spirit of my mother and I
into the size of the bullets in the gun.
Again, those days are long gone now.
And I know a lot of things I could not have known then.
My father raped my mother so many times, that she convinced
herself it was no longer rape.
I don’t even have to spend two seconds thinking about it,
I know I’m a product of rape.
I was created by evil, given a gun, and handed the torch.
So, you don’t think I’m capable?
Stay close.
I want to grow up to be a junkie
I still dream about her.
I wake up covered in sweat,
with the sheets twisted around my arms
And my mouth watering,
It’s not surprising to me (or anyone that knows me)
That I’m nihilistic, and self-deprecating
But passionate,
always passionate about things.
Most passionate about things I hate.
I miss her.
And I look at the carpet with envy filled eyes.
Wanting to fall into its loving/hating/killing/reviving arms.
I donate blood
First sign of a cough, I’m in for that flu shot.
And it’s that first smell of the alcohol,
the most beautiful thing I’ve ever smelled.
And the needle.
Oh god, it’s the fucking needle
And what of the existence I lead now?
Chain-smoking all day in front of this machine,
which is just as deadly…if you like the slow easy route.
And loneliness that only comes with years of practice
“Nobody ever said ‘I want to grow up to be a junkie’”
Hell, I never said I wanted to grow up.
We’re all junkies.
Shit, when you run out of smokes in the middle of the night,
you dig through the filthy stinky garbage like everyone else
to find a short.
Tivo
Nasal spray
Chat rooms
Porn
We’re all fucking junkies.
And I have people pointing fingers at me and telling me,
that I can’t do this or I can’t do that…
I can’t play Russian roulette on the curb with the neighborhood kids.
Joining a militia to train for Guerilla Warfare instead of a sorority is a bad idea.
Cut back on alcohol, to save my already damaged liver…
Don’t they know…
My liver is the ally, wanting to cut me loose?
Simplicity.
That’s what I’ll have if I go back to her.
No material possessions
No pressing engagements
Train hopping,
Late night bonfires.
No showering
Petty theft
Pan handling
A trick here or there, just to get by…
The beautiful and free life of a gypsy
That’s all I want
Or maybe just one last dance with her.
So, I cook up.
Looking around me at all the things
That have me a prisoner right here in my own home,
the bills, the prescription pills, and the like.
When the needle first goes in
I slide my hand down between my legs
My clit is on fire.
When she enters me
I let it all go.
I lay back my head
One stroke of my fingertips over my clit,
And I come until I can’t feel my feet.
I roll my head to one side, and release the belt from my teeth
Drool runs down my mouth
And I’m not smiling
I’m laughing
At you.
Rushing to get home from work to watch the latest reality show
While I lay on my carpet in ecstasy
Writhing and nodding off.
Into what could possibly be my last dream
The ultimate slumber
The last supper for these hungry veins.
Dirty clothes and no teeth
Pawn shops for best friends
An angle on every action,
A sinister survival of spiraling lies and deals
To pay up later,
For what I clearly deserve today.
This time I wake up.
In a world where ordering off the shopping network with
Your credit card, slides you one notch up in the world of
Soccer moms.
But putting a dirty needle in your vein,
Makes you a filthy embarrassment.
And I will go running right back to her
She waits for me.
The ultimate mistress.
I’ll have to do without the precious smell of
alcohol today,
wipe off a dirty spot with my own spit.
And she enters me
I’m speaking in tongues
I’m higher than God
I’m free here in her web
And I’ve never felt so alive and so dead at the same time.
I’ll give you my car for $50 bucks and enough to make it home
(on the bus)
Take the keys to my house,
and just pay me in trade.
I’m a junkie
Just like you
Only, in your world, you are held up high
and made to feel large for bending over for money.
And I am the person on the corner you will never
Make eye contact with.
But believe me,
I don’t want to look at you either…
For you fucks are the ones who sealed the deal for me.
With your aborted fetus’ in a jar sold as beauty products
Your ignorance that keeps you hypnotized in bliss
The life of a junkie,
and the death of a bum,
I was made for this.
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Debbie Kirk
