Dated 17-May-2001
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I’m feeling a poem,
The words start flow,
The thoughts in my head,
Not coming out slow.

It seems that my family,
Is rearing it’s head,
Saying they missed,
And fearing me dead.

Years of no contact,
Indifferent denial.
And now they’re all talking,
It feels like a trial.

I’m sitting here typing,
Not knowing what’s said,
Just getting out thoughts,
Inside of my head.

My grandmother’s dead,
My sister is gay,
My brother’s in pain,
With nothing to say.

My mother just called me,
All weepy and sad,
I just can’t believe her,
Is that good or bad?

My father seems normal,
But I think it’s a front,
Controlled by his new wife,
A scary, old cunt.

Nice to your face,
All pleasant and smiles
Until you her all the stories,
From the other one’s side.

Dude, I thought I was better,
Things going great,
Why wasn’t I taken,
Made a ward of the state.

Now, don’t think me whiney,
Or bitchy or weak,
Its just that my coping,
Is to openly speak.

Well, time to stop hiding
I’ve a phone call to make,
To tell MY mom,
She missed her mom’s wake.