Feeling the need to let my mind just unwrap itself into whatever past present or future place it guides me to.
September 14, 2014 - 7 years ago it was less than a week before my world would forever be altered.
Nothing to prepare her.
She thought she knew what she wanted,
what she was doing;
none of it made sense
and it frightened and intrigued her
all at once.
What splendor lies in the forbidden unknown;
behind the curtain.
Close your eyes Julia,
just keep them closed and this will all be over soon.
You don't really feel him inside you,
on top of you,
behind you.
He's not there.
Not really, not if you don't want him to be.
Dissociate.
You can do it.
Just leave the room.
Can't you see it?
There.
You're getting ***** flat on your stomach.
I know you see him.
You see the anger in his face from way up here in the corner of the ceiling.
It's okay.
Don't cry.
Just numb out.
Think of ****** and of Brian.
Brian.
He doesn't feel like Brian.
Don't think about it.
Don't think about it.
This is your life now.
You chose this.
You deserve this.
Can you breathe?
Your head has been jammed between those pillows so long.
Are you sure she's ok?
She thinks she is but just wait.
He's been clipped.
You won't get pregnant.
I have to let him do this.
He's waited so long.
I have no more reason not to.
The postponing is over.
Pleasing him, her, anyone, always comes before what you want.
Do as is expected, Julia and it'll all be over soon.
You can make this all go away if you want.
Run, run fast into the back corner of the house
where your little room lies.
Stay there till it's over.
Till he's finished.
Don't worry about the warmth inside you,
spreading.
Just remember the balloons on your wallpaper,
that toy box right below the window in that first tiny room of yours.
You look up and see the blue sky
and the clouds twist themselves into animals for you.
The purple crayon loops on the wall behind the door.
The night light, the bear with the stocking cap on.
Where is it?
Where'd it go?
It's dark again, it's so dark and I can barely breathe.
Why are my clothes off?
When did he take them off?
Did I?
How did all this begin?
Where am I?
His bed.
I can hear the fountain outside.
Turn your head, Julia.
It's Friday, the day after the chaos.
6:31pm.
I'm on my back.
This is the first time?
Yes.
This was the first of 2...or 3.
**** is an ugly word.
It sounds just like the act.
It feels ***** and painful in your mouth.
Hate comes easy when I see that print of the pillowcase.
It smells of ****** sweat and clean sheets.
My hair is getting pulled.
"I'm gonna make you mine."
Cringe.
Hold your breath, let him do what he's going to do and just wait.
Stay in one spot and do nothing,
nothing can hurt you if you just lie there.
This isn't really happening.
Go away.
Go away, Julia.
Just run,
run as far away as you can.
You're in bed with a monster
and you don't need to see the life he's steeling from you.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 1:19 AM UTC
There's nothing like it.
Bowing my head;
the tears sliding
over my cheeks,
dripping down
into my lap.
I let my chest fill up.
I let my eyes fill up.
I let my head fill up.
Memories.
Torments.
Loneliness.
These things
take me over,
flooding my mind
with the mistakes
I've made;
the awful person
I've become.
Cheater
Liar
Deceiver.
I beat myself,
daily,
for the things I've done
for the things I do.
I cannot stop,
I am driven
to fail
those I love most.
I'm so good,
I can lie
to anyone;
pulling the wool over their eyes,
belief built on
faith, trust and denial.
I am this
heartless creature,
selfish to the core.
The lies I tell,
no one questions,
not even
me.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
She tasted like watermelon on a july day
pink and juicy
Mostly liquid (transparent) but full of flavor
a rosebud mouth that inhaled like I did
bitter meals of smoke from tin foil and glass
She laughed like echoes off ancient cave walls
all experience and fire
dangerous arousal from a primitive state
I gave her my greatest possession
sharing with eyes wide open
She fights without going to Geneva
***** with bricks
taking hits like a man
deep breaths of poison and still she trudges on
She smelled like gardenias inside my palms
familiar and hand-picked
infested with seeds
but all that I can recall is her on my lips;
pink and juicy
tasting like watermelon on a july day.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
There sits a box
beneath my bed
where I gently place
each one of you.
You are all
beautiful
in your distortion.
I pop each of you
out,
every once in a while;
like ice cubes
from a tray.
You slither and melt
into me,
your frozen waters;
an ocean of time.
I'm taken back
to when
you all meant something.
All my deceit and pain
tied tightly
with a
velvet ribbon;
offered
as a gift.
I disguise you
with costumes
so grand
you appear to be
a commodity,
property of
trickery so dark.
I keep you
hidden
in that box
beneath my bed
where you can't escape
without my key.
You only come out
when my demons
won't sleep;
their elusive charm
so seductive;
a perverse
mutilation
of thought.
Pad-locked
and secret
are the lies
I've told.
The lives
I've lead
and those I've
destroyed.
Underneath the rubble
and debris
breathes a girl
so lost,
squandering herself
aimlessly;
without reason.
So in the box
you will stay,
wrapped up warm
in blankets of
regret,
until the time comes
to clean out
what lies beneath
my bed.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:27 PM UTC
I sit here and type
while
the sounds of alcohol
dribble in
through the netting
of my screen.
The pseudo-intellectual noise
of the painfully stupid
absolutely
infiltrates.
I sit here and type
while
I wait
for the camel to burn.
For his blue feet
to go up in
small,
mighty embers.
Resisting their
ultimate
culmination.
I sit here and type
while
my cat blinks at the
iridescence of nothing;
glinting
in it's
all-encompassing
emergence.
The invisible fields;
designs of the
archaic.
I sit here and type
while
realities flatten
in lives
everywhere.
Tragedy unfolds
upon more
tragedy;
leaving no
survivors,
no triumph.
I sit here and type
while
the Oroboros
eat their own tails;
solidifying their
eternal return
and
cyclicality.
Serpents,
in movements
of blindness;
displaying their
ever-lasting existence.
I sit here and type
while
domesticated peoples
everywhere
bypass the phenomena
that is,
our humanity.
Giving in to
temporal compression;
eyes bandaged.
I sit here and type
while
nothing in particular happens.
The terminally mad
go mad,
the desperate prisoner
remains imprisoned,
the lipstick stains
the mouth
and we all
go on,
as if we weren't
the wiser.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:03 AM UTC
I knew you once,
when the sun
shown bright.
Your brown eyes
deep with delight.
You were vibrant
full of art;
the windows
and doors
straight to your heart.
Flash forward:
time span
7 years;
you drown in
dark, ****** tears.
Alone with yourself,
the shadows emerge.
Your defenses down;
their spell, you cannot purge.
She feels like love,
those intoxicating charms;
slithering through
the needles in your arms.
You know, as I:
from her
you'll never hide.
Lie, cheat, steal
to keep her
by your side.
I adore you
like a sister,
there's nothing more true.
But I have to step back
with feelings so blue.
There's nothing to do
but sit here
and hope
I don't get that phone call,
"She's overdosed
on dope."
My little Dolly;
Lara, you're my
own personal
Betty Page.
Please pick the lock;
free yourself
from this cage.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
2 men,
that's it.
2 men
have known me,
inside, they fit.
Doped out
of my mind;
it's hard to recall.
Bits and pieces,
flashes of memory.
I was a living rag doll.
Barely breathing,
he takes me from behind.
Pulls my hair,
and says,
"I'm gonna make you mine!"
I think it happened
three times,
but who really knows?
When your brain's
as high as mine goes.
I can't call it ****
I was a willing participant.
Numb to the bones,
so with it I went.
When it all fell apart;
my secrets exposed,
he wrote me something
that was no longer prose.
His words were razor blades,
slicing the skin with ease.
I kept myself in my own prison;
over, my heart began to freeze.
"A willing **** victim",
is what he called me.
Sick to my stomach
for allowing him in,
I lay my head on the pillow
to cry for a 5 year old sin.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
I take comfort in the familiarity
of it all.
The constant madness;
ringing bells and sounding alarms.
I've seen a lot of things.
I know a lot of things.
I'm a different type of person
than I used to be.
I've seen a woman steal my heart;
watched her love:
F L E E T I N G
She loves you today,
him tomorrow.
The melody strikes the match
and the fire rages on.
Unbeknownst.
Without awares.
I've heard the words:
"Is this too intense for you,
it's okay if it is."
and I've answered:
"...it is,
do it anyway."
The 15 year old girl
on the couch
is high
on her dad's methadone.
I'm withdrawling
and hating her;
insane with abandon.
I've felt a needle puncture
the skin;
watched the snake
appear
and
disappear
into myself.
I am another yourself.
We are
One.
You and Me
we are the same,
different eyes
different lungs
but we share a
soul.
I've learned how to make a fist
and pump it
with a jumprope tied
round my arm.
These things are not useful.
They will not bring you
great fortune.
They are the wasted
thoughts
ideas
and journeys
of my youth.
I've been given another chance.
Not a second one,
just another one.
After being purple;
lifeless;
was the greatest hit
of all.
Sick and sad inside
she slumps against the
hallway
wall.
Feeling nothing
after crying for hours
she finds resolve
in the insults
inside her head.
I take comfort in the familiarity of it all
writing like stories
have no end
as if all the pieces
fit together.
The reality is
they don't.
Hope begets Grace
and Grace is what leads
us through this battle;
Life.
I've seen a lot of things.
I know a lot of things.
They are not useful
but
they are mine.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
I usually count
as i go along,
slicing.
I didn't last night
and awoke to a ****** shirt sleeve;
sixteen cuts.
I always cut
in multiples of four.
Subconscious needing
brings into being
streams
of aqueous despondency;
never gone,
never out of reach.
I'm sitting on the edge,
the ultimate precipice
of things that cannot be undone.
I am tarnished,
scarred and bruised
with life's effigies burning
all around me.
Waging war on myself,
my demons,
carving them out of my skin
to reign there
no more.
There's a split in my reality;
twenty months free of chemicals
yet
I still catch myself
along serrated edges.
I usually count
the ditches
in my arm;
worn as badges,
trophies of shame.
Twenty now lie,
lined up,
as a platoon for battle;
purple and healing.
Winning the war,
I let them fade
until new enemies
come to rush my gates
once again.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
"You're too skinny",
says my love
just as the dawn
breaks through
the window shades.
The seconds
turn into sobs.
With every tear
another bone
protrudes.
All:
cheekbones,
hipbones
and ribs.
My rings
slip off my fingers,
jeans slide down,
the numbers
on the scale
decrease;
these moments,
a triumph.
There's no
stopping her,
no turning away.
She's taken over;
demanding:
SMALLER THAN SMALL.
I answer with:
obsession,
body checking;
an overpowering
need
to be weightless.
I close the door
on him
and the silly ideas
of getting well.
Turning to her,
we hold fragile hands;
I whisper,
"Together, till the end."
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC