decibel

tonight, i can’t get to sleep again. the rain clouds have parted and the skies are clear, leaving a cold crisp night easy on the body to rest and reach for the sheets. my mind goes back into a time machine bomb again and it ticks away, blood and drenched veins vividly playing in my head, shadows playing hate mail games with me and it brings me back to 1983.

the year where discovery begins with a perverse foot.

so i spent the rest till now and possibly all the end of my life searching for the missing pieces. trouble is, philosophy and christian education has given answers to understand how the dots join and lead to the deep longing for affection missing or in this context, twisted, in those impressionable years. it’s my disease and my personal strife and it’s not fair to seek fathering from those who have no blood obligations, nor is it loving to put them on the spot to get out of their normal routine and comfort to embrace lepers like me.

so how did i get here to let me heart beat again? did i not crucify it along with christian education and spiritualism?

i am stuck between it all. Between seeing what could be and where my lack is mutating into. I’d put a bullet to my head now, so I can stop the harm and inconvenience I am and will continue to cause. why God, did you have me walk this road less travelled? why God, if you the loving father that you are, would let me take these twisted thorns to graft into my flesh and leave me hunched and all lame and rejected by mankind? that if it is just me over imagining it, then why do I malfunction with women, and men, and be confused with search for my father? why would you let me suffer this meaninglessly? I cannot comprehend how love goes in your context, for, to be honest, i seem to be living in the polar opposite of the short stick end.

Is it so wrong to desire the warm security more than my pillow companion can give? Will you end my beating bleeding anatomy and lay me now to sleep?

1983

i was probably getting myself into some serious shit that I had not anticipated. to be honest, the medical examination at school left me, the 9 year old, a little more curious than my shorts could hold.

i found the mirror more fascinating than usual on a hot afternoon after school. i dropped my undies and decided to examine myself, pull, stretch, grope, flick, put puppetry to my curious anatomy, and see what else I could discover. As the saying goes, shit hits the fan, i noticed through the corner of my eye, a familiar face looking over the high wall over my room. It was mum, looking furious, as she discovered what I was toying with.

she reached for the cane, the lot, and spoke her judgement. pevert, sick bastard; all creative imaginary twisted words and labels lavished generously as the cane came crashing and whipping. i screamed, cried, scuttled to the corner of my room in my nakedness, in shame, groveling in pain. i don’t know what happened next but all i recall was a helpful douse of chilli sauce finding its way up my anus, fingers pushing past, pumping, driving deep the burn into my body.

“you will find burning joss sticks and incense up your ass the next time i catch you playing with your weenie again!”

my sex education was complete.

love, they say, is tough. spare the rod, spoil the child. tough love, indeed, my arse.