denied

 At first I was amused that Moore Sr. (my father) was so potent, and being obviously successful with woman beating magnetism he instantly impregnated the easily infatuated. I imagine how manly, and virile they found him to be whilst never holding a job; thinking women were to be subservient to him and his interesting way of thinking himself a higher life form. He was a god unto himself - he worshiped daily at the temple known as a "drug dealing, woman and child trafficking piece of shit"...This temple name has some fucking punch to it, eh? He mesmerized my known siblings - despite the fact his legacy of dysfunction is readily viewable in his criminal, and drug using children, including their mental health issues. A criminality and abuse that has trickled even into his grandchildren. Nothing deserves glamorization as much as man who made a living off drugs, public assistance and pimping... His redeeming quality was that he kindly allowed the addicts he created to sell their genitals under his management. A real gents' gent... Something you prop up as a model of manhood, but only for the manliest of men. Being forgiven his transgressions against us, and humanity in general, his weak minded offspring made him into a harmless old man. One I needed to forgive or stop lying on - dependent on which sibling you talk to.

Recently they really angered that violent cunty cunt within me...  They gave him more dignity on his deathbed than they did our mother - the woman he beat and had raped on the floor of a basement. The woman he pistol whipped - forever giving her nose that slant look. The same mother who walked in rain, sleet or snow to get to a job where she was treated as third class. The woman who repeatedly throughout our lives had taken us in, paid our bills, bought our children diapers and food. She didn't  get 1/4 the respect that worthless husk of nothing got. She was never even given the respect of believing what he did to her. This was evident by her intellectually stunted son - with the capacity of a 5 year old, who was never able to accept her fear of him. He clung to the idea they'd be together again, because it was love. Destined. Never-mind the fact she pissed on herself at times when he pulled up in their yard. She was too ashamed to tell them that, she told me... It fueled my hate. She never told the rest anything because she knew they were enamored by him. She only had her family really - eventually they all faded away from her too. He has that effect on those he carefully crafted a fake nostalgia with, and those mentally compromised- both of those tethered. Some are so removed from emotion they act like her life was some distant unrelated string of events. Somehow his age and subsequent role as grandfather herofied being a pimp and drug dealer became worthy of forgiveness, and I'm the bitch for not giving him what he always wanted - to have Vicky, our mother, be given less.

Less respect.
Less love.
Less acceptance.
Less loyalty.

In the end he got all that from them - he won through them. I knew that never winning me would hurt him the most. I looked like her ... I represented her in his mind. I didn't give him what he wanted. I told her I wouldn't - I kept my word. Daughters who love their mother do ...

Denied motherfucker. Denied.