Personal Problems: 12th Account

N.B. Now ain’t it strange? Your Tarot cards will get you through it, so light a candle, go to sleep. Leave the cocktail pitchers for another day.

There is a deep kind of magic
That you have to deep throat on before you can really
Taste fairies and taste the world as God made it
Where you don’t have to miss your mother Eve
and blame her for your being conceived.

Dear Mother,
Tell me something so innately personal
That it tears me from your womb.
That filters my blood from yours, our genetic separation.
God wouldn’t pay attention to the fact
I’m your daughter,
If tomorrow he decided to gut me on a highway
And the cars ran over me like insects.

In return,
I will give you the favour
Of hearing me speak out my pain
Because no such pain is worse
Than the one that plagues your child.
Am I still your child Mother?

I have been hearing of a woodpecker for many days now
Pricking the sides of my house
It is interrogating me for reason, for decisions
And Mother I have no boyfriend
No best friend except for my bones and the blood
That run through us
Fountains of centuries that are tucked neatly
Into the smiles of our eyes.

Mother what the hell am I doing?
I took my bags and dragged them away from our house
I left like a spell of rain.
Mother why am I this way?
What do me you?
Come again my friend tell me what to do.

When it all runs dry
And I have no more tears left to cry
The ducts in my eyes
Have shrunk to pin-pricks
And I only drink from this emptiness
Pour yourself wine, leave it on the coffee table,
I will sip it in secret as you flip steak in the kitchen.
I am 6 years old again. Curious as kittens, as spiders.

Mother my heart’s in a little place called Cornwall
And I don’t feel the need to fight myself
So let me cave in
I am my own worst enemy
Though I hope to sip myself like your wine,
I am a great fruit

And heaven hope I’ll find a man
Who’ll pitch up my dreams with me
And we’ll live inside them like a tent
Because that’s what you want me to do, no?
Mother why is it we can never have what we want?
Why does nobody need me?
And yet I am the stain on their favourite t-shirt
That just won’t wash out.

I take to my Tarot cards for advice
Because you are far away, sleeping.
I am 5 am and dying.
I am 3 pm and I am the girl from Ipanema.
A man takes photos of me
And I am somehow beautiful
And how nobody could ever want me

When the world is at my feet
I will work all at night
Then walk with a boy all over campus
And tell him I like to walk
And hear the world come to life
I would go to the supermarkets with my new friends
And tell them being there at 2 am
Is like living in some kind of dystopian novel.

It will rain tonight and I just want my teddy bear.
Instead I want to be kissed by someone new.
And I reject them because I want Dad to keep my heart
Locked in a cage
I want to be untouched
I want to be dissolved of all previous failures
Live and learn you say but it’s stopping me from living
And then of course, learning.

Mother I left the shower an hour ago to tell you all this.
Where’s the kiss I gave you by the green gates
At primary school
Something’s gone amiss,
I write endless lists of why I should be closer to you.

This is my world Mother.
I hope you love it.
Carnations and coastal walks and all.
Pittas and chicken with avocado
And pain.

There’s nothing else to describe
But your blue eyes
I wish I could’ve had.
Tell me what you’re thinking.
Tell your problems.

No problem ever existed without people.

It’s your turn now.


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