I lay

I don’t lie to you when I tell you I’m worries.
I’m honest.
I lie to myself when I do nothing.
I block it out.
Blot it out. Spill the in-well over my thoughts.
Black it out.

I can’t.
Emotional labour. What I feel when I see you.
Each and every person chooses their own future.
I don’t know how much of an effect I can have over you.
You’ve broken each and every one of us.
Like we broke you when you bore us into this world.
You didn’t stop smoking when we were in your womb.
For that I will never forgive you.
You drank as well… you said.

You said you have been abused.
You told me once that you had sex with someone you didn’t want to.
That’s rape. You told me you didn’t want to have a child and you had an abortion once. You said you ran home to Australia when you found out you were pregnant.
How is your relationship with my father?
I think you guys bicker often.
Its pointless.
It could be so fruitful.
Instead you fight eachother.
Nothing to share. Long lasting memories.
History. Clashing personalities.
I wonder. I wonder at that often.
Your father died when you were young.
He was diabetic like you are.
Too much cake, too much sugar, not enough exercise.
I wanted to take you to the hospital today.
Belly swollen and tough.
You’ve been so sick.
The runs, diarrhea, sore and swollen feet.
Vomiting. Bleeding under your big toe nails. Capillaries shot.
Spots on your hands. Discolouration. The glass doesn’t need to be wiped clear.
J.R.R said it, and I don’t need it.
There is no mist, for this to be missed is sheer and frightening, blatant, willingful, ashamed ignorance. Delay. Deny. Misinform.

You sleep sitting upright. No circulation to your body from the waist down.
“you’ll lose your fucking legs” – I said.
“you’re freaking me out” – you said.

IM FREAKING YOU OUT?! YOU! Well its mutual.
This is sitting inside me. Taking up brain space.
My feelings. My thoughts. My waking ideas. My fears.
You will die.
Should I just run away?
No matter what i’ll cling to those happy memories I suppose.
Frozen in time. Parents are meant for that. Right?
“not so bad”. Maybe I think you’re brilliant because you are so useless and shit so much of the time. That family bond, keeps tugging, asking forgiveness.
Well permission to fucking help.
How can I change this lot.
This strand.
The STUCK. that you surround yourself with.
A happy life? I’ll see your doe eyes, yellow and fearful.
I know the glint will come and it wont break me. That will just fuel a fury in me. But that fury will be nothing to the sadness and sickness that will breed in my if I think that I could have done more. Could have helped.
I will lash out at everyone.
It could tear the family apart for me.
Stress. Anger.
Alone. You need to be stronger than you are.
I can be strong for you.
I want to ask of you to stay as healthy as you can for as long as you can.
Will you do that for me?
I don’t know how people guard against this?
I fear the end.
Your demise.
Fearing other people’s deaths.
My world.
Pulled through the eye of that early morning vacuum cleaner.
What does everyone else thing?
Yes yes yes… Just go about, potter, focus on your own life maybe she’ll sort out hers. If not. That’s life.
That is the death of that thinking.
That person is gone. If they matter to you cling to them like a limpet.
Do not suck from the nectar that they poison themselves with.
Fight. Tooth and nail.
Chipped and bitter as blood and sand as the world crumbles around you.
Cling tighter than the cold the devil would bring.
These ideas, paramount you know what you are fighting for.
True is your thinking. Pure is your resolve. Selfish and heartfelt.
Wanting for the ever waning strands of time in your lovedones seeps.
I will not stand. I will hold.
I will hold you until yours and my knees buckle.
Do not dare give up.
Bend to my will. If I must put on the gloves and treat you as a child, like you once had to for me. I will carry you.
Tooth and nail.
Tears streaming down my face. I will not go ashen like I have.
That cold is the death of my love.
That cold is what comes down like the veil before dawn or dusk.

I ask you to stay with me.
Even though I have made my decision to go.
I can’t handle it anymore. Truth is, I never could.
I am a coward.
But I will spend time, willingly.
A minder, a carer, a son.
Stronger than any other damned person I know.
I will fight. Will you dig in?
Will you stand when I am gone?
Can you fight the world without me?
Are there other people you can rely?
I wish. I wish I wish I wish.
And it breaks my heart.

And so I run.
Run from it all.
Every day. I get high when I run.
And I pretend its ok.
Like we all do.
I will be strong.
Don’t break me.
Do not dare give up.
Listen to me.
Fight. And I will follow.
I will support and cheer and cherish the moments.

Survivors sickness.
You make me wretched.

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