We Hate You, Mother



We hate you, mother –

We want to scratch your bosom raw and bare

And watch your blood stream down in valleys

Over the hilly mounds of your perpetual roundness and femininity.


Then we’ll collect the molten gurgle of crimson

Into a dainty jar with a slap-on label,

and call it Jam.


We will feed on it nightly,

Zealously guzzling every

Puddle of ooze and lump of glop.


We will cry when it’s over and wish ourselves dead,

Prevailing ‘till sun rise to do it all over,


Again because the thing we can’t stand about you mother,

Is that you birthed us retched monsters.

So we will punish ourselves, by punishing you,

And live to taste life’s tortures.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s