Picture taken by me at the Canberra Art Gallery.
I can understand now why you chose to hang around adults who were much younger than you.
You were so lovely to everyone. They all knew you loved a drink but someone they could have a laugh with. You also saved them a few bucks when you would buy their kids a packet of chips and a nice cold soft drink.
You paid big bucks in the 70’s to have your house cleaned by kids. $20 was very big bucks for a couple of hours work. That’s not what you intended though was it?
You groomed the parents and then you groomed the kids. You convinced yourself that you were doing nothing wrong. You even said “Oh come on, we like each other don’t we?”
No you cunt I liked the $20. I liked that you gave me chips and drinks. I liked that you liked me. I liked that you lived near the Burleigh sawmill where us kids had lots of happy memories.
I didn’t like your cock. I didn’t like your abuse and I didn’t like that you still hung around our family afterwards. I remember your filthy old man smell. I remember your old creaky bed and I remember removing myself from myself and viewing it from above – a talent I am so glad I developed. I didn’t like the feeling of guilt I felt for decades in the future. I didn’t like you ever again.
I was ten years old you filthy filthy cunt.
I did like it when I heard you were dead.
I don’t forgive you. I don’t believe that makes me feel better. Putting it out there for other parents to be more aware of sick fuckwits like you hanging around their kids and grooming them makes me feel better. Putting it out there and then dusting my hands of you and thinking to myself – “right – onto the next one” until I am done with them all (in my life) and then I dust my hands of all of you.
Death becomes you.