I was six when I saw mama naked form the waist up. Mama’s breasts were large, round and fleshy. I stared at them with wonder. I asked, “Mommy, when will I have those?” I pointed to her breasts.
“Later. Much later.” She said.
They became a mantra of sight. The image of her breasts. Mama, your breasts lift out of your cocktail dress. Hang over your skimpy nightgown, stick out in your turtleneck like fat bullets. You wanted the world to see your breasts. But your breast teachings were, “Never let anyone touch your body. Men are like dogs, they go from fire hydrant to fire hydrant.”
I hungered for the nurturance of your breasts, but they were made of mud and steel. You taught me to squelch my orgasms, to hate the smell of my body. So I fucked every bad boy to bond with the hatred you leaked all over onto me.
Mama. Considerable superficial charm and average intelligence
Absence of delusions or other signs of irrational thinking
Unreliable, disregards obligations, no sense of responsibility
Untruthful and insincere
Lack of remorse, no sense of shame
Poor judgment, does not learn from mistakes
Self-centeredness, incapacity for real love and attachment
No true insight, inability to see oneself as others do
Ingratitude, egocentric
Vulgarity, rudeness, quick mood shifts
Impersonal sex life
Failure to have a life plan
Personality disorder – traits are inflexible and maladaptive and cause either
Significant impairment in social and occupational functioning and subjective distress
Intensity
Intensity
Sexual intensity
Sexual release
Sexual intensity and insanity
Intensity of the insanity feels like the intensity
Of the sexuality.
How is this?
I seek…creatively?
How is this?
I don’t understand
Brain scrambling
Attachment disorder
Body feverish
Soul sadness
Life with mama
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.