"i've got this theory. t's called the reinvention theory. this is how it goes. if you become somebody beat or fucked up then you will be unrecognizable to your parents and loved ones. they will beg you to change, but when they see you are genuinely a different person -- because maybe you've dyed your hair seven different colours or obtained your allowance from dirty-fingered old men in the street or put a ring through your pussy or tattooed milk fucking toast on your forehead or scarred your body on all the visible areas or yelled words like shit cunt pussy dyke faggot mail-oder bride, snuff flicks cock ring john homles is my dad or cut off your body parts and mailed them care of mom and dad -- then they'll realize how terribly sorry they are and they will kill themselves and leave you with all their money and a blackboard with i fucked your life written two million times in their own blood.
i think about going back sometimes. i'll pretend to sell jesus or some kind of magazine. they won't open the door, so i'll have to sneak my way through the radiator vents. my father will still be there with his newspaper, never changing out of that housecoat, my mother still clicking the remote, even after the batteries still run out.
they won't ever forget.
i ran to the door and looked up at the sky. the wind outside was fierce. it whipped. put holes in your body. hung you upside down.
sometimes you just have to do something.
it was easy. i opened the door. i closed the door.
know the best part? my house shrinking away behind me."
-mm '98
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