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Click hereI call him
Motherfucker,
and he thinks of that weekend he came home from college.
Dad was golfing and there was a bottle of scotch next to his mothers TV chair.
He sees the faded pink bra
being pulled down and his face
forced forward,
taking her barren nipple into his mouth
and she sighs and murmurs
" Mommy's good boy".
The light in the room
changes as witnessing clouds pass,
her veiny hand stroking him,
the arthritis bracelet
cold steel against his scrotum,
as she brings him to completion
over her pantyhosed thigh.
In the kitchen with her dress back down to her calves,
she serves up Kraft macaroni and cheese
and he eats his with a smattering of guilt and confusion,
as his semen dries unseen on her leg,
she smiles
heaping peas onto her husbands plate.
I call him motherfucker
and hurt him more than I'll ever know.
and graphic. It conjures up thoughts of a scarred young mind, injured forever.