“You have spoken of the past and its phantoms, Stephen said. Why think of them? If I call them into life across the waters of Lethe will not the poor ghosts troop to my call? Who supposes it? I, Bous Stephanoumenos, bullockbefriendinbard, am lord and giver of their life.” James Joyce
Hatred washed over the womb I was trapped in and became my only sustenance. A screaming death wish being delivered by the tightening umbilical cord around my neck, promised me release from the bullshit I was about to be surrounded by. I punched at my mom’s stomach, too pissed off to think about what was coming next. I became tired of this darkness, and I was not attracted to the light outside; I wanted to die before I was even born. A seething, screaming rage spitting out of the mouth I had yet learned how to use gave me breath and life. The weight of my head continued pushing out of the womb because it didn’t know where else to go. Sucking on my own bile and the hatred and disappointment of my mother’s, I could not find deliverance from the constant flow of shit entering me. Fuck you all
The snow was falling outside so heavily you could barely see three feet in front of you. My fathers snot covered hand was frozen to the car door handle as my mother was sitting in the passenger seat, carrying the burden of my soul and shaking her head at my father. On the radio the weatherman quipped, It may never stop snowing…EVER. My father is kicking the car door as his hand is still stuck and my mother is screaming as I’m punching and kicking and praying for a quick death. My father falls on the ice and his hand rips from the door handle and the blood immediately freezes to the side of the car. My mother looks at the radio, then my fathers bleeding hand, laughing at him as he’s cursing and punching the steering wheel.
-You were the one that wanted a son.
-When will this fucking end?
My mother was confused because she wasn’t sure what he meant and began crying
-Oh jesus fuckin Christ
-You’re never happy, why cant you just be happy.
-Look at this, my fucking hand what is there to be happy about?
-If you used a goddamn tissue that wouldnt’ve happened. Oh…god, drive faster.
-How fucking much faster you want me to drive you want us all to die?
-Goddammit just shut the fuck up!
My birth was special because it was the first time my father ever actually did shut the fuck up when my mom told him to. They really didn’t have to worry because there was no way I was popping out of there, I was clinging to that womb so tightly it was beginning to puncture. They were both chain smoking with the windows up on a drive that seemed to last an eternity. I was praying to whatever would listen to me to not let me come out of there, but I knew the time was getting closer and all I could do is try my best to strangle my self.
As we got to the hospital my father quickly found a tv that had the Giants game on and sat down with a cigarette and didn’t move for hours.
The doctors head was between my mothers legs flashing a piercing light in on me disturbing the only calm I would ever experience.
-He may never come out, head’s too damn big.
Mother was already regretting this decision maybe because she already knew from the raucous kicking inside her for the past three months that it wasn’t my head at all, but the growing hatred I had already been building for this world I would soon be a part of. In the womb I already had it all figured out, these fucking people will make me miserable for half my life and I would do the same to them. Once I shot out of my fathers cock he had something to blame for his misery and also someone he could mold into exactly what he wanted. My mother had someone to take care of her when she became old and decrepit and that’s all these people wanted but there was something that no one was accounting for. I was actually born with a brain and the ability for it to function on it’s own and eyes that could see the bullshit surrounding me once I popped out of there. As my head exited out of my mother’s dripping cunt I saw the light for all of the painful darkness, and out of the cunt and into the fire I ran.
A ball of neurotic nervousness, oh why can’t I find release?
Breathe, breathe BREATHE!
I can’t fucking breathe because no one ever taught me how. All these fools could fucking teach was what not to do. Don’t touch that, don’t eat that, don’t stick your finger in that, your cock is bad, stop talking, stop thinking, stop breathing, STOP! And I held it in.
and I stopped breathing