Consequences be damned, when all you have to say are the words you want me to speak; strange demands, from estranged hands, wrapped around my throat while your lips touch my cheek. and I am not the animal that you raise to be trained, responsive to biscuits - comes when called by its name. And you have me trapped for now, if not for a week, months fly by and I dream of silencing the tyrant inside you that shows up when you speak. and whoever said that this place is a prison was more on point with your words than your deeds, when the daily activity you choose to pursue shows you're waiting for the help it impedes. And it may be that my mind has grown fond of the hate that it reads in your pacing around, the angry sound of you hoeing the ground, preparing to sow all of your seed. and I know i'm alive, but I can't seem to reach the place that i've always desired to be. yet you seem to be, so much farther ahead always, despite the contortions you suffer, while you're breathing over me all of this will end, i swear it by pain - i will cut it out of you if i have to, and do what it takes to remove it from me. but your death rattle will shake my body no more, blinding my eyes and removing the light that i see gathering ahead of you and sweeping the floor, with you, for once, while i drift off to sleep.
do get away from this being (even if he is your father) find someone that loves you: think of the poetry you could write then!
