Meathead Monologue

mother

the crack of my mother's voice
sends me spiraling into a
corner of my bedroom even though
i am reaching out to her wailing voice.
yet my hands find walls instead
and they run along the scratchy texture and
i wonder if she is still crying or if she
fell asleep.
i hear her again, and this time i scream for her to speak to me
but she never does and she continues
to sob. she curls into something
horrid and misleading
because when i look in her eyes
they are no longer inviting and warm, her eyes are wet with tears and she is angry at the world for killing her family.
my mom is angry at god for killing her family.
i take her anger and i put it inside of me. i take her anger and i shove it down my throat and into the depths of my feelings
and i digest it all. i digest it all.
i break down the walls.
the rough texture becomes dust at my fingers
and i cry this time,
not my mother.
i am angry at the world for killing her family.
i am angry at god for killing her family.

r.k.