8.7-8.13: Comfortably Strangled

Dad would listen to his stereo until two or three in the morning.
Ted Nugent would sing me to sleep
While Dad would open another bottle of Budweiser
And Mom would pass out on the toilet.

We would pick up our parents’ filth
Before waiting at the end of the road for the school bus.
Of course, Dad made it to work by 6 AM—
Seemingly never sleeping—
And Mom never seemed to wake up.

A duality of consciousness remains:
Half asleep, never fully awake.
A tensely-strung fiber forged from both
“Stranglehold” and “Comfortably Numb”.

Dad gave me the gift of thirst:
Perpetual desire to fuck and fight.
Simply, a need to feel something against my skin,
Even the subwoofer will do
Or the repeated moistening of my lips from the bottle.

Mom freed me from that gift
By making me not want to feel anything at all.

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