He called me God
But he did not call me a dog
Once when I was a child
I knew my mother mild
I was kinder and not so wild
Then he left me to my anger
I was in so much danger
I cancelled out Michele
I blamed her for being in hell
I should have known from the last woman I loved
How I lost my soul to the cocked Glock of loose cannon and control
Books that stand up erect on their own
Massages of plentiful ego and demonic realms
Fighting for my place next to actor’s penises that swell
As I chase their hard ons for soft power and understanding
Beneath my mother’s level of self care and loving reprimanding.
There are things I can control and spiritual lavish nights of open regret and despair
Then I see her hair and I am gender control and repeated dismay
What are the things that wise men say?
How do they corporate rise when they have sex at the end of the day?
These are not the things that this son sees with conditioned confidence and Jesuit glee
So much degradation then as I search for the space between her and me.

19/12/2023