The dinner of the dammed

there was a moment
inside this disturbed mind
i was crying deep inside
regardless, regaling, only to
the breach of my back
snapped, disturbed
this broken spine
confirmed
in this institution
a child's hand. grasped
clasped
the bottle of beer
he drunk every night snapped my mother in two
but she fought back
and bottled his neck
to shut him the hell up
and every time during sunday dinner
drunk disturbing the mash potato
picking on me because of the beer driven hatred
not appreciating the time mum had labored
over the roast chicken but he was more so
stuffing alongside my own baby brother
every night after tea the snoring on sofas
my  father and uncle asleep and content
i died in my mind during wonder years sent
and then he awoke, remembering nothing at all
cuddled me and the regrets went away
for him
not me
i wandered to a fall
that sunday dinner
 of regret
after an afternoon in the publicans arms
fireflies dancing in a turgid sunset
i love you dad but you fucked me over
a yorkshireman
a real man lover
a jester laughing an artist dying
left me malnourished
sunday dinner, child crying.
a roast lamb seeping
i am what i am
it was every week
the dinner of the damned.