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Where Art Thou Anonymous Benefactor To Offer Me Succor

Where art thou anonymous benefactor...to offer me succor? Castaway stranded on figurative deserted island pitted with absolute zero salvation, sole recourse finds scant consolation with prayer lifetime atheist draws futile faith within himself grudgingly accepting feeble accomplishments ditto permanent estrangement among kith and kin tortured more punishingly versus death sentence of choice: firing squad, gallows, guillotine... nostalgically sentimentally, and zealously yearning fore gone girl(s) of mine, one spouse two grown offspring long since severed emotional home ties even when under same roof appalled, embarrassed, jarred particularly regarding good for nothing hang dog looking papa, mentally unfit father, who wrought misery upon heads he begat chronically dirt poor Mainline moocher never earning a bloody cent claiming psychological disability (verity substantiated with professional assessment attests to psychological mental illness probably present during inchoate biological development in utero, and most definitely congenital) unfortunate no supportive resources, thus experiencing grievous incalculable relentless scapegoat treatment - me no kid inadvertently subjected with cruel, diabolical, exponential sucker punches while riding the bus sitting stone temple pilot faced during class, belittled, defeated, framed unfairly as spitball culprit during eighth grade mathematics with Missus Labosh subsequently painfully shy lad threateningly harangued, and nearly paddled courtesy Methacton Junior High School principal Mister Clock believe me you, aye remained mum about said incident til...this moment, not surprising since every unpleasantry suppressed unwittingly festering within psyche in tandem with threatening rapier sarcasm ostracizing jibes cumulative wrath unwaveringly smoldering, passively brooding, visualizing punching meanies, screaming... wanting to kill - sublimated hurts glowering, exploding... decades later - more often surfacing unannounced at odd times venting bile at wife directly, and barking at deux daughters subjecting innocent progeny with mine anger, or rerouting, harboring, channeling... pathological addiction answering and posting personal classifieds, yours truly guilty attempting to appease call of wild at mental, physical, and spiritual expense additionally setting poor paternal example accompanied with detached avoidance maybe costing yours truly king's ransom and/or receiving my just desserts, yes?

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things