There, a multitude of lies live behind your smile,
a grinning skull of anger white washed to a perfect facade.
That has never changed with age,
nor is it anymore comfort then it was yesterday.
In those times that I've needed you
you've welcomed me with open arms;
all the better to lure me within distance,
to tear out my heart and crush it under foot,
to rewire my mind and destroy the child that lives within.

You say I'll always be your little boy.

How very true ...

...never good enough and never grown enough
to ever earn your respect or your trust.
I'll always be the smelly little boy you knew,
who got into trouble and made mistakes,
who saved the neighborhood from the inferno but forgot to do the wash,
who got in your way and never learned how to be
the perfect reflection of yourself that you wanted
everyone else to see.

But I have learned the real lesson;
that which you have always subconsciously tried to teach me
with your little slights and poorly hidden barbs.
I know how little I am worth.
I know how little I can achieve.
I know where I belong.
Please stop screaming mother,
I know ... and always will.

My valium queen,
Mother Icepick.

Chip away at my heart ... just like old times.

You profess your love and pride and I am to believe.
And when I feel maybe this time it could be,
from nowhere comes the careless blow that knocks me to my knees.

... and the child screams.

Only tears could I ever offer you.
The only part of me that you could accept.
Only then did you feel you'd won through.
Only when you had struck the match
and once again torched my dreams,
could peace reign.

My holy mother of pain,
Mother Icepick.

Your delusions of grandure:
of a heaven in which you belong,
of an all loving god
who knows you by name
and calls you daughter;
the justification of your existance.
But I, your son, live in the hell you made of me ...

... and therein shall I dwell all the rest of my days, amen.

Mother superior,
Mother Icepick.

Look at me, I am what you made.
A child in the dark.
A broken spirit.
A boy of clay and shattered glass,
wallowing in the ashes of defeat
even as I attempt to fly.
On a ship of fools, I am still the only dunce you see.

I have so much I should be happy for.
Everything I own and have achieved defines me ... temporarily.
But everything pales in the shadow of the one thing
that I will never posess:

the honest love of the woman who gave me life.

Why couldn't I be me?
Why did I have to be something you had envisioned?
It's no wonder I have failed you.
That man never existed.
That man is strong.
That man is good.
That man is clean cut.
That man makes no mistakes.
That man makes you proud.
How could I be that man when
you've shown me so often that I'm not
and never will be any of these things?

The snake in the field,
it wears the face of your emotion.
You speak with forked tongue,
your smile hides fangs
and your kiss brings death.
There! Hiding in the darkest corners of my mind
waiting to strike in a moment of weakness,

Lady Switchback,
Mother Icepick.

Tell me you love me
and in the same breath
cut me to the bone.
It's no news to me.
But, I always fall for it don't I?
How gullible I must seem to you.
Just one more of a million faults
for you to hold under my nose.

And now as a man, I wish I could turn away
and spit this splinter from my mind.
I wish I could say I don't care
and forget what was.
I wish I could pretend
that this was only a bad dream
and let it go with a flick of my mental wrist
as others seem able to do.
I wish I could hate and ingnore you.
But, I can't, you see.
For me,
you will always be ...

My mother,
Mother Icepick.

Poetry copyright©2002 by Lord_Jereth