L.I.F.E

My stomach rumbles like early morning garbage trucks.
I sit eyes focused to the ceiling, which seems to get ever so close to my head.
The sun burns through my ninja turtle curtain.
Poor is not the word to use.
The smell of rotten truck stop food fills my nose.
A smell that I know all to well.
My feet dangling off my couch cushion bed.

Breath stale with the taste of curdled milk and generic cereal.
We move out again today.
My mother, hungover and crusted.
I hate looking at her.
Her voice rattles my insides.
Just the night before she broke my glasses.
It'll be months until I can see again.

Violence,tears,and a little confused brother.
I'm father now.
I reach to open the fridge door,knowing that baking soda and ketchup packets won't do the trick.
When will this change?
5 homes in three years.

Did God give up on us?
My brother and I would hide behind pillows and in closets.
As soon as the door would creek.
Liquor,Virgin slims,and Brute filled the room.

Another new father or just another man for mother for this afternoon.
Locking the door could only keep her out for so long.
Save me I was born out of a rotten women.