nothing much has happened. i’ve started building a website for my father’s business. someone there (a relative) seems to want a site that allows for online scheduling. sort of funny because i don’t think anyone would really use it. either way, it’s easy money.
there seems to be a lot of weirdness with my father’s side of the family lately. they’re saying my mom is using the business to get discounts/whatever the hell it’s called from her car, my car, and my brother’s car. except my brother doesn’t have a car and my mom uses her own business. -shrugs- i guess obnoxious gossip is the part of everybody’s family. they didn’t like it before when my dad used to rule things so now my mom being in charge is one more thing to complain about. well, they weren’t exactly all there when he tried to blow up the house. or when he used to hurt himself in front of us. or when he tore down the chandelier. when he cut his arms and showed me. when he punched holes in the walls. there’s just so much that went on. my mom was supposed to put up with a mentally ill man taking out his problems on his kids? well, fuck that. i don’t care if the man is supposed to rule the house. it just makes me so angry because my mom has put up with a lot from both me and my dad and they always make her look like a bad person. she doesn’t want their business. she doesn’t want their money. she doesn’t want or need anything from them.
ugh. rant. i shouldn’t let it bother me and it usually doesn’t but sometimes i just want to tell them to leave it.
i wrote a poem. first one since school let out. contains some sexual content so, yeah, not kid friendly.
ocean beneath my feet
kicking off my heels,
treading water in my
black dress (the one that
made me sigh when it
brushed the backs
of my knees).
i had no place to go
to but i figured that
the ocean would welcome me.
california water isn’t pretty.
cigarette butts floating by,
sometimes a used condom.
sometimes even i felt used,
a worn body that had been
through the whole routine.
i thought of my mother sliding
her fingers through my hair,
telling me that i’d meet a nice boy
and she’d better approve of him.
except the boy really wasn’t nice
and she really wasn’t a boy.
she’d chew bubble gum and
every so often would blow a
spit covered bubble that
made me think of dogs with
very large mouths.
a nasty dog with drool quivering
below its lips. i knew that
one day i would curl up with her,
easy as can be,
my breasts pressed into her back
my hands gripping her hipbones.
then she raw and slippery in
my hands. i twitched when
she said another name and
i could see that spit covered bubble.
pink and soft and shiny.
in that dirty water i swam
with no destination,
thinking of that girl,
feeling her sticky sweet fingers.
i woke with my fingers
between my legs and sugar
on my tongue.
when i stood i could
feel the ocean beneath my feet.
