Song of a Scorpio moon

Mom,

I don’t want to share you with a dad that needs a mom and a dead brother.

Growing up, I felt like an uglier version of you, a younger, stunted, naive replica.

Life didn’t turn out to be as glamorous as I expected. I’m always trying too hard yet underwhelmed. I’m never sure of how anyone feels about me. I’m not sure anyone out there is safe and whole, and if they are, it doesn’t feel like they would want to have anything to do with me.

Hey mom I know you love me but it seems like you’re tired of me sometimes.

I used to dream of being King but then suddenly, it was behind me. The only time I was King was when I was still wishing to become one. Is life an unfair illusion? Or is it only happening to me? If it’s only me I can’t bear it. I won’t let myself face the truth because I’m scared I might not actually be enough. Someone locked me out of the house and I don’t dare ask to come back in, I know the answer will be no. I don’t mean to be sad but whenever I’m being really me it just comes out of me and it creeps people out or scares people away and it just makes me angry because they like to pretend that never having struggled is the same as overcoming it. They like to pretend they are as brave and strong as I am when I am using my braveness and my strongness. I am using it up and so it is less visible, so I don’t have any left over to flaunt, but they like to pretend they have something I don’t, don’t they?

I’m always carrying the weight of cities. I’m like the subway car laboring through Manhattan boroughs, everyone relying on me to come on time, stepping on my face and belly and my insides until my intimate parts are flat and hard and dirty with the trampling of the crowds. People always want me to carry them somewhere, and take them neatly and reliably and comfortably. They never want to go to the unknown and unexplored. They would rather see the depths of the ocean than the depths of my heart. They would rather go to Mars than see how far I can soar above the gold standards of men.

Mother, they told me love was a fairytale so I dreamed and dreamed until dreaming was the only thing I knew how to do, and then still as the dreams fell apart all I could do was dream some more. Mother look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t lie to me, that you didn’t know it would be like this? Of course you knew how could you be the only one?

Mother I would never tell you these words because I couldn’t bear to break your heart.

Mother all I’ve ever wanted to do was write poetry but people didn’t want to hear my truth, it was too scary and chaotic so I only wrote pieces of truth that made sense. I faithfully prepared and served meals of truth I never got to taste.

All my life you told me I was the special one, the transformer, the shaman, the one who can survive what is not probable to survive. I didn’t realize that it meant the ones I love most would not. The brother at my side in the high speed chase against the world, my ride or die, riding shotgun and in charge of the music, didn’t make it this far. And now every day feels like I’ve gone too far.