A swingset broke my teeth. I'm a skeleton.
Face down, on the ground.
I'm never asking her to push me harder.
Not again.
Looking upwards I realise...
I grew up. I'll never grow older.
The metal chains groan and shriek above me, too similar to what I used to hear.
Try not to hear.
I reach out to make them STOP but my arms have shrunk.
Standing up my shoulders barely reach the seat.
I recognise the truth
That my infantile body is subjected to cot death
Simply because it wants the end.
I was born through an archetypal womb
Every being of her body tried to manifest it's blackened cells as one being.
They took her over. I could see it in her eyes.
I could see it in my dreams
As her sunken cheeks and holocaust skin used to float under me.
A swingset above water.
That's how it always went.
My lungs would feel heavily laden and red raw whenever I saw her in daylight.
Because in dreams I would scream,
Push me.
Push me higher.
I always wanted to get as far away from that image as possible.
But I never called them nightmares and it's time to admit...
She did this but she doesn't deserve it.
I know she sleeps with her arms crossed, waiting to die.
The bed gets bigger. We all get bigger.
But we still sleep in cribs.
We still wake up at night and want the comfort of soft
Tender skin.
It was always too taut against her bones to offer that.
But I knew she was there.

Now I don't evn know if she is SHE anymore.