Lissy Gold
10-26-2014, 09:16 PM
Everybody Starts a Virgin
Worry has grown in her like a grandson. She hated him. He was only an idea until now. But when one finds out that they have a grandchild, they are going to be worried, but mostly confused- which leads one to worry more. She doesn’t know how this was possible, and I know even less.
This baby has been doing a terrible thing: It digs into her heart like that ugly object went in and out- then in and out again- of her daughter’s legs that conceived the physical evidence of life’s accident. He is ruining her flesh and blood, while it only costs her daughter some flesh and some blood.
“Good morning. How are you?” I say. “Tired,” is her response. Why would you say that to me? Don’t you know that it hurts me to see you hurting? I didn’t mean for this to be my life. I know you were up crying all night. How can I sleep knowing that? It hurts me to know that I’m hurting her so.
And I do nothing but raise this son of my own.
. . .
I can’t find his bottles! Where the **** did you put his bottles? Why are you trying to starve him, mother? Don’t you know I still have breasts? She doesn’t understand that she should be the one spoiling my child, not starving him. She’s supposed to make him big and fat and prosperous, and then leave it to me to clean up his piss. If my child dies, I should be the one to kill him; even if she hates him more than I do.
It’s his time. I am more nauseated than I thought was possible in this world. I cry, knowing my life will always be in a different light after all this. Now on the table, I start to go under.
As I wake, I am told that he came out just as was intended; Every body starts a virgin.
Worry has grown in her like a grandson. She hated him. He was only an idea until now. But when one finds out that they have a grandchild, they are going to be worried, but mostly confused- which leads one to worry more. She doesn’t know how this was possible, and I know even less.
This baby has been doing a terrible thing: It digs into her heart like that ugly object went in and out- then in and out again- of her daughter’s legs that conceived the physical evidence of life’s accident. He is ruining her flesh and blood, while it only costs her daughter some flesh and some blood.
“Good morning. How are you?” I say. “Tired,” is her response. Why would you say that to me? Don’t you know that it hurts me to see you hurting? I didn’t mean for this to be my life. I know you were up crying all night. How can I sleep knowing that? It hurts me to know that I’m hurting her so.
And I do nothing but raise this son of my own.
. . .
I can’t find his bottles! Where the **** did you put his bottles? Why are you trying to starve him, mother? Don’t you know I still have breasts? She doesn’t understand that she should be the one spoiling my child, not starving him. She’s supposed to make him big and fat and prosperous, and then leave it to me to clean up his piss. If my child dies, I should be the one to kill him; even if she hates him more than I do.
It’s his time. I am more nauseated than I thought was possible in this world. I cry, knowing my life will always be in a different light after all this. Now on the table, I start to go under.
As I wake, I am told that he came out just as was intended; Every body starts a virgin.