slattern calculus

I find myself alone, unfocused. I find myself together, alone. 

I am in calculus integrating the animus. I am behaving like a teenage boy. A slattern. Open tabs of browsed pornography. My thoughts and humor are crass and unoriginal. 

I feel a cruel disgust toward my mother. God, I find petty women disgusting. She sends me upstairs to my room after I scream. I am eating like a varsity athlete, digesting pre-processed calories. 

He walks down the same empty stairs. The hair on his toes, blonde and overgrown. He trips, then floats. In the kitchen, he apologizes to his mother for his clumsiness. She soothes her son, fawns at his self-regulation without her intervention. She is down on her knees, worshipping him for screaming at her earlier and apologizing for tripping on testosterone. He does not correct her. He finds virtue in her fallacious flattery. He gloats in the reflection of mother-as-mirror.

The oaf cocooned within himself, cushioned with maternal misrecognition. The +C in the integral stands for anima, a free constant.

He finds me alone, unfocused. I find me together, alone.