CAUTION

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Hello to my cautious fallen angels! It’s been a while since I last checked in. I tend to write poetry and short stories, but there’s nothing wrong with that.

It’s Mother’s Day and the sadness wrecks havoc once again. I was an unusual child. My mother was afraid of me. She called me “the sick boy.” I spoke of death, misery, and hopelessness around the time my parents were divorced, and also during the time I began to get bullied in school. Then, trauma ensued and I became catatonic from the age of 10 to 18. I dressed in gothic garments, cut myself regularly, and tried to commit suicide whenever I was bored so she could keep me entertained. I blamed her for the loss of my innocence even though she didn’t do it directly.

I used to have sex with gangsters for drugs and pickpocket strangers on the streets to survive. My mother was a whore, and there was never food in the house. I went in and out of psych wards, residentials, group homes, and state hospitals. I got expelled from four different high schools before I finally graduated.

By then, my mother no longer bothered visiting me, let alone keeping me entertained. She gave up on me. I am the “Jason Todd”* of her four children.

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*Jason Todd was the second Robin after Dick Grayson. He was murdered by The Joker. Then, he was resurrected by the use of Ra's Al Ghul's Lazarus Pit. Jason Todd became a villain called The Red Hood.

Now I am a grown man. And every Mother’s Day that comes and goes relinquishes the mental bind I constructed to keep these horrid memories at bay.

I am socially rejected by almost every social group dynamic I have come across throughout the years. I am guarded and I hardly let anyone in. I portray this dark persona but I believe myself to be very gentle and kind. I must be cautious at all times. It’s days like today that never let me forget why I always exercise CAUTION.

Well, just because I hate Mother’s Day due to association by my own life’s experience, it doesn’t mean you feel the same way. At that note, I wish you all a Happy Mother’s Day!

Feel free to check my latest book, a book of poetry called Trials and Tribulations! http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B018ZR0IVA/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?qid=1460319936&sr=8-1&pi=AC_SX236_SY340_QL65&keywords=trials+and+tribulations+sufian

One Bad Day

I sat confined within the metal bars compressing me to a condensed version of an ambivalent world. Psychologist-infested daily routines didn’t always comprise my life’s entirety. It only took one bad day to rid me of my innocence forever.
Shadows spilled underneath my cot, behind the rusted toilet several paces away, and they ran away from the fluorescent lights twitching out in the corridor.
Red eyes glowed at night to accompany the darkness I fed earnestly throughout the day. It was an effective way to lose weight.
Years passed and so has three in-mates that took the pleasure of being my roommate. It came to the point where my past branched off into infinite alternate realities. That happens when you reach a certain age. Memories evolve into better or worse things depending on your mood.
I haven’t been outside since I moved in. The normies in their hospital scrubs always shut out the outside because I don’t deserve it anymore. All the other Malvolos lost their rights to freedom too, they kid around with me.
At a certain time of day, the leader of the normies announce from the walls that the lights must go out. We retreat back into our catacombs while being driven out of the community room like cattle.
I don’t bother talking to the other outsiders because I sleep alone regardless. Nothing new happened since The Assault. So I laid in the dark letting the last remnants of my eluded past reframe my dreams once more.
The Sun always radiates as bright as I remember. Maybe it was a tad bit brighter back then. The birds chirp as they perch themselves onto the trees my mother constantly refused to cut down. Her baby blue car is warming up in the driveway. My older brother (always was taller than me) sits in the front seat while my mother says her goodbyes to my stepdad. She is plotting against me with him. Then she glances at me, massaging her back and leaning on her scepter, and asks me if I’m positively sure if I want to stay at home instead of going with them to the local supermarket. I assure her that grocery shopping with her was as boring as school.
Then suddenly it’s nighttime and I skip forward past the awkward stage of puberty into the fathoms of adulthood. I’m closing up shop. Putting away spare boxes into the complacent shelves. I walk up to the entryway door to transform the “come on in, we’re open” sign to the “sorry, we’re closed” sign. But there’s this really sexy twink knocking softly on the glass. I yell out that we’re closed but he insisted on coming in to talk to me. He wants me to do it to him, I’m positive.
So the car drives itself away like fate so anxiously wanting to lay down its foundation. I give a quick smile to my stepdad just to be polite before going into my room to play some videogames. But that smile I flash at him is a green light for him to pursue me.
I lead him to my office in the basement where I let the cobwebs materialize out of thin air. The young man looks so happy with his manila folder (most likely holding his resume) gently against his chest. He says he heard a lot about me from the press and assures me that he wants nothing more than to work for me.
I just want to go home. But he sits down across from me. He unzips his white jacket, beckoning me to admire his physique. Then he carefully hangs his hoodie on my coat rack. His shirt is a v-neck. The young man has tempting-looking chest hair. It is more than obvious that he yearns for my touch.
He knocks on my door and told me to help him clean up the house to surprise my mother when she gets home. I reply if he pays me money, I’ll do whatever he wants me to do. My stepdad giggles playfully as he barges into my room and unplugs my game console. That is the last straw. He answers my unexisting plea to take away my virginity. It sucks cus the least he can do is pay me afterwards but sometimes he doesn’t.
I get up soon after the young man sat down to lock my office door for privacy from my employees who went to their respective homes an hour before. I tell him that I’m not currently hiring at this point in time but I can reconsider if he admits he’ll do anything if I pay him to do it. I stole his smile. A scared expression is left behind on his face while I tear his smile off his porcelain face.
Masturbation had lost its fun since I no longer had an audience. The buzzing of the night light kept me up all night long. I didn’t sleep a wink. I crack myself up sometimes as my laughter fills the empty void. Just when I think I lost my mind entirely, I lose it a little bit more. I can no longer plant this seed anywhere other than my bedsheets. My bed wanted me to cultivate this undead garden, hardening along with the red eyes across the room reminding me that I had an audience after all. A sexy doctor peeked into my room, beckoning me to take his smile away from him too.

Feel free to like or comment on this post. I will always reply back to comments! And please check out my eBook: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BSPFCQ/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_awdm_EgmSvb1FDR2EB Thanks for reading 🙂