Mom

This is the night of September

With 9 Celsius

At 3 a.m.

She insisted

on ordering takeaway

She seems forget

I am her son

Just as her friends do not

remember anymore

I am hard up for money

By pinching and scraping for days

To paid for her Psychiatrist, which is

not better than a shrink,

Or a charlatan

I having been made voiceless

Then forced myself

to a sip of the of Espresso

Mixed to the Gin

to devoiced

Nothing has changed

She repeats her story

About her arranged marriage.

She was forced to marry a druggie

Then he met another girl

Which is past remedy

addicted of opioid analgesics.

Mom seemed to found

Divorced mom

Seemed had found someone she loves.

After the great tenderness

Between them

Mom was beaten up

And gave birth to me

The son my dad didn’t like.

Beating me was become

the entertainment after drink.

The day he died

He was abuse me as the lost 50 cents

Dead quiet except the sound

Of washing machine

He felt down, suddenly.

The light blinking

Like the cat’s eyelashes

As the tobacco smoke burned the valley.

Yes, I am getting drunk and

Wide wake

Fall down at the early dawn

She slowed down the speed of ramble

I just find that the reason

of my dad’s died.