My paycheck is spent on responsibilities.
The occasional sex toy.
I’ve got a grudge that I’m holding, against everyone, this includes you and your family, your pets, your pantry, your husband, your job.
I’m not sure if this is innate or if it surfaced with time. I can feel my muscles tense up right when I wake up. I can’t get it together, they stay like that throughout, gnawing my soul, not lovingly, real rough real mean, like the stray dog that bit my face when I was deported back to the homeland in 1991.
Where does this shame come from?
Does everyone feel it?
Is it cause we came from sin?
Are we all destined to this melancholy bullshit?
Is the creator to blame?
Does he see my pocketknife?
Does he understand that this loneliness has followed me, followed all of us from birth.
My mother gave me some crucial advice growing up.
Advice I’ve just recently understood as true.
“First you, then you and finally only you”, she’d say.
It’s the same with love and everything in-between.
Look out for yourself, the heart is a vulnerable stupid thing.
You give it away only to get it right back, broken, in pieces, completely and uncomfortably unrecognizable.