even in her hibernation
she could never get that
out from the crevices
of her fingers
(more) she could never tell if
it was hers
or everybody else's
or maybe their rust had bled, blended
i scrape you from under my nails hoping that will get rid of you.. but you keep coming back. i clip my nails and paint them trying to make sure i can't see you anymore. i know you are still there. why won't you go away! i want you(more) to go away! leave me alone.. i just want my life back to the way it was before i even met you.(less)
Even before the drinking began they argued constantly. The air was always thick with tension, a tension keenly felt by their young teenage son. Mornings began in icy silence and nights ended in volcanic eruptions of anger and frustration.
The physical violence came later, one night after countless(more) vodkas and water; dad accused mom of being lazy and mom accused dad of being overbearing and mom threw the remote across the room and dad called mom a f'n bitch and mom got up to leave and dad grabbed her and mom scratched at dads face, leaving bright red streaks across his cheek.
Later that night mom left. She packed a small suitcase and never came back...
In the years that followed dad would often remark that it didn't f'n matter where she goes, he would always be under her nails.