it sits heavy in me it stretches so far back that its genesis is hazed out into indecipherable glimpses into an inconsolable psyche-  a psyche that rewinds and replays incidents- scenes that are half understood and half imagined:
Train rides to the apartment of a Moroccan papa,
weed
Moet
cigarettes
station wagons
the projects
french vanilla ice cream dreams.
These are staples of a reminiscent diet, that in the end will consume me. I keep wandering back abandoning myself, trying to get to keys and doors and secret notes. Sometimes it is all ink on a page, with little evidence to support that it ever even happened. I orbit these notions, am consumed, bent and burned out from the inside by these notions. And at the center of the universe, is the sum of space, matter and time.
Mother.
The true genesis- from 9 months gestation to 19.79 years of living.
I have loved and hated you.