I understand (to the best of an 18 year old's respectively limited understanding) how the heart works, and I know how manipulation works. I'm damaged..I don't think I know what true love might be like, but I know what it feels like to receive it. I know what soulful intimacy is like. I know what it's like to trust someone with your life, but I only know that because I didn't have a choice. I know what it is to lay my mind and body down in submission in the lap of a mad man, and bow to whatever he wants, because you know it's not him, but the "other guy" talking. I know what it's like to think you can save someone if you sacrifice yourself. I know what I thought was love.
I also know what it is to grow up and leave. I know what it is to turn around and bite the hand that fed me poison. I know what it's like to rip out and desecrate the heart of the one who thought he owned mine. I know what it is to be looked at like prey. I know what it is to feel the presence of hot breath on my neck, and have cold chills run down my body and have my stomach turn; legs twitch in anticipation of frantic flight. I know what it is to uproot my future-- my life, wrap my new tender roots in rough burlap, cram them into a small plastic bin, and run.
I know not what it is to stop seeing his truck around every corner. I know not what it is to stop looking over my shoulder. I know not what it is to not be in fear in my own stomping grounds. I know not what it is to not think every set of dim headlights on the dark, unpopulated roads riding too close behind me are him. I know not what it is to breathe easy. I know running away once is not enough.
I know
I know
I know
I know
I know
I knew what I thought was love.
I knew what I made were excuses for inexcusable actions.
I knew I was wrong
I knew he was wrong
I knew
I knEW
I KNEW
I knew he was poison..I didn't want to believe it..he was antifreeze..he was so sweet..honey and molasses and syrup and sap I was STUCK TO HIM LIKE A FLY ON FLYPAPER OH HOW I REGRET EVER SEEING HIS FACE OH GOD, and I when I left, part of me ripped away from my bones, and I'm bleeding out..
No. NO NO NO NO N--
He was a long, slow inhale of mustard gas; burning my lungs and cutting my breath short and sweet. Choking me. Choking me. Choking me.
I know what I thought was love.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
Loving someone just like me was terrible.
We were a twister; a ball of flames-- so destructive, that we burnt everyone in our wake.
I'm so sorry.
We broke every bed, and smashed every ******* hope and dream our parents had for us.
We screamed and yelled and decimated each other to the brink of permanent dislocation, and then you shoved me over the cliff.
My, what a cliff that was..
**** me?
No.
**** you.
We shattered every bone in our bodies violently explaining how "right" one of us was,
but we only proved how fatally stubborn we really are.
We rode the waves of life ********
That was a mistake.
We shot up the night, and drank up the tragedies like drunks fresh out of a failed rehab stint, as they rolled over us like rock crushers-- hair of the dog that bit you; "it's good for poetry", they said.
Never a dull moment for us
Abuser
Never a craving
I want what I had back
Never a quiet moment
We used to scream so loud..
Never left wanting more
I want more than a manipulator.
Never a deeper sadness than what we create together
**** straight**
I don't love you anymore.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC
Raining and thunder and lightening and frightened
What happened to sunshine?
Cold and starving and desperate; hopeless and desolate
What happened to grace?
Drown me in the waves crashing about in your mind
Filet my heart with your calloused hands
Love me in the pit of your stomach, where hatred lies anything but dormant
Kiss me with everyone you are
Destroy me in your wake
You are a burning church, and I am
face-down in the Holy Water
screaming out hymns;
trying to drown out the flames.
I love you
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
She danced circles around me,
with that keen smile that
she only
seemed to have
when we were
saying
goodbye.
I was once told to only write
whenever
I was feeling inspired,
& ever since her
presence has faded
& there are no more
clichés left in this world to
write about,
i've found myself
running;
whether it's from
the road
or
the sun
or
the memories;
I just can't bring myself
to make the
tires stop rolling
& my feet stop
aching.
I can feel the fear
sweating out
of my
pores
& the regret
screaming for me
to stop
screaming
so loudly.
It took me weeks to figure
out exactly
why I couldn't feel
my arms every morning
while waking up
& I think it's because
they never truly
let go of
her body.
If my arms can't
have their
sanity
back,
then I would at least
appreciate mine
again.
It's hard to
write a poem when
you forgot
all of your pens
back at home.
It's hard
to
call anything a
home anymore
without being reminded
that mine had
two
legs
&
a
heartbeat
that were always
one step,
one beat,
one heartbreak,
ahead of me.
& for everyone
that has
said "you can't make homes
out of human beings" has
obviously
never found the
kind of
comforting
warmth that
only a fireplace
& her smile can
create; except
fire could
never put me
in the hospital as
quickly
& her
glance
was enough
to get fire trucks
racing to
the scene.
I realize why
the term
"love" is used
so lightly nowadays;
it's because no
one that has
truly experienced it
has ever lived
to
tell the tale.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
You are the cool night breeze through my hair. You are the cigarette smoke in the air.
You are the stinging in my mouth. You are the place I want to build my house.
You are the kiss on my face. You are ancient feelings now misplaced.
You are crystal clear waters and the mud on my tires. You are the night we claim as "ours".
You are heated breath and sleepless hours.
You are the flames and explosions unto my towers.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl
in town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes
to go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that
would not hold her. Her hair was black and long and silken and whirled about as did her
body. Her spirit was either very high or very low. There was no in between for Cass. Some
said she was crazy. The dull ones said that. The dull ones would never understand Cass. To
the men she was simply a *** machine and they didn't care whether she was crazy or not.
And Cass danced and flirted, kissed the men, but except for an instance or two, when it
came time to make it with Cass, Cass had somehow slipped away, eluded the men.
Her sisters accused her of misusing her beauty, of not using her mind enough, but Cass
had mind and spirit; she painted, she danced, she sang, she made things of clay, and when
people were hurt either in the spirit or the flesh, Cass felt a deep grieving for them.
Her mind was simply different; her mind was simply not practical. Her sisters were jealous
of her because she attracted their men, and they were angry because they felt she didn't
make the best use of them. She had a habit of being kind to the uglier ones; the so-called
handsome men revolted her- "No guts," she said, "no zap. They are riding on
their perfect little earlobes and well- shaped nostrils...all surface and no
insides..." She had a temper that came close to insanity, she had a temper that some
call insanity. Her father had died of alcohol and her mother had run off leaving the
girls alone. The girls went to a relative who placed them in a convent. The convent had
been an unhappy place, more for Cass than the sisters. The girls were jealous of Cass and
Cass fought most of them. She had razor marks all along her left arm from defending
herself in two fights. There was also a permanent scar along the left cheek but the scar
rather than lessening her beauty only seemed to highlight it. I met her at the West End
Bar several nights after her release from the convent. Being youngest, she was the last of
the sisters to be released. She simply came in and sat next to me. I was probably the
ugliest man in town and this might have had something to do with it.
"Drink?" I asked.
"Sure, why not?"
I don't suppose there was anything unusual in our conversation that night, it was
simply in the feeling Cass gave. She had chosen me and it was as simple as that. No
pressure. She liked her drinks and had a great number of them. She didn't seem quite of
age but they served he anyhow. Perhaps she had forged i.d., I don't know. Anyhow, each
time she came back from the restroom and sat down next to me, I did feel some pride. She
was not only the most beautiful woman in town but also one of the most beautiful I had
ever seen. I placed my arm about her waist and kissed her once.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"Yes, of course, but there's something else... there's more than your
looks..."
"People are always accusing me of being pretty. Do you really think I'm
pretty?"
"Pretty isn't the word, it hardly does you fair."
Cass reached into her handbag. I thought she was reaching for her handkerchief. She
came out with a long hatpin. Before I could stop her she had run this long hatpin through
her nose, sideways, just above the nostrils. I felt disgust and horror. She looked at me
and laughed, "Now do you think me pretty? What do you think now, man?" I pulled
the hatpin out and held my handkerchief over the bleeding. Several people, including the
bartender, had seen the act. The bartender came down:
"Look," he said to Cass, "you act up again and you're out. We don't need
your dramatics here."
"Oh, **** you, man!" she said.
"Better keep her straight," the bartender said to me.
"She'll be all right," I said.
"It's my nose, I can do what I want with my nose."
"No," I said, "it hurts me."
"You mean it hurts you when I stick a pin in my nose?"
"Yes, it does, I mean it."
"All right, I won't do it again. Cheer up."
She kissed me, rather grinning through the kiss and holding the handkerchief to her
nose. We left for my place at closing time. I had some beer and we sat there talking. It
was then that I got the perception of her as a person full of kindness and caring. She
gave herself away without knowing it. At the same time she would leap back into areas of
wildness and incoherence. Schitzi. A beautiful and spiritual schitzi. Perhaps some man,
something, would ruin her forever. I hoped that it wouldn't be me. We went to bed and
after I turned out the lights Cass asked me,
"When do you want it? Now or in the morning?"
"In the morning," I said and turned my back.
In the morning I got up and made a couple of coffees, brought her one in bed. She
laughed.
"You're the first man who has turned it down at night."
"It's o.k.," I said, "we needn't do it at all."
"No, wait, I want to now. Let me freshen up a bit."
Cass went into the bathroom. She came out shortly, looking quite wonderful, her long
black hair glistening, her eyes and lips glistening, her glistening... She displayed her
body calmly, as a good thing. She got under the sheet.
"Come on, lover man."
I got in. She kissed with abandon but without haste. I let my hands run over her body,
through her hair. I mounted. It was hot, and tight. I began to stroke slowly, wanting to
make it last. Her eyes looked directly into mine.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"What the hell difference does it make?" she asked.
I laughed and went on ahead. Afterwards she dressed and I drove her back to the bar but
she was difficult to forget. I wasn't working and I slept until 2 p.m. then got up and
read the paper. I was in the bathtub when she came in with a large leaf- an elephant ear.
"I knew you'd be in the bathtub," she said, "so I brought you something
to cover that thing with, nature boy."
She threw the elephant leaf down on me in the bathtub.
"How did you know I'd be in the tub?"
"I knew."
Almost every day Cass arrived when I was in the tub. The times were different but she
seldom missed, and there was the elephant leaf. And then we'd make love. One or two nights
she phoned and I had to bail her out of jail for drunkenness and fighting.
"These sons of ******* she said, "just because they buy you a few
drinks they think they can get into your pants."
"Once you accept a drink you create your own trouble."
"I thought they were interested in me, not just my body."
"I'm interested in you and your body. I doubt, though, that most men can see
beyond your body."
I left town for 6 months, bummed around, came back. I had never forgotten Cass, but
we'd had some type of argument and I felt like moving anyhow, and when I got back i
figured she'd be gone, but I had been sitting in the West End Bar about 30 minutes when
she walked in and sat down next to me.
"Well, ******* I see you've come back."
I ordered her a drink. Then I looked at her. She had on a high- necked dress. I had
never seen her in one of those. And under each eye, driven in, were 2 pins with glass
heads. All you could see were the heads of the pins, but the pins were driven down into
her face.
"God **** you, still trying to destroy your beauty, eh?"
"No, it's the fad, you fool."
"You're crazy."
"I've missed you," she said.
"Is there anybody else?"
"No there isn't anybody else. Just you. But I'm hustling. It costs ten bucks. But
you get it free."
"Pull those pins out."
"No, it's the fad."
"It's making me very unhappy."
"Are you sure?"
"Hell yes, I'm sure."
Cass slowly pulled the pins out and put them back in her purse.
"Why do you haggle your beauty?" I asked. "Why don't you just live with
it?"
"Because people think it's all I have. Beauty is nothing, beauty won't stay. You
don't know how lucky you are to be ugly, because if people like you you know it's for
something else."
"O.k.," I said, "I'm lucky."
"I don't mean you're ugly. People just think you're ugly. You have a fascinating
face."
"Thanks."
We had another drink.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Nothing. I can't get on to anything. No interest."
"Me neither. If you were a woman you could hustle."
"I don't think I could ever make contact with that many strangers, it's
wearing."
"You're right, it's wearing, everything is wearing."
We left together. People still stared at Cass on the streets. She was a beautiful
woman, perhaps more beautiful than ever. We made it to my place and I opened a bottle of
wine and we talked. With Cass and I, it always came easy. She talked a while and I would
listen and then i would talk. Our conversation simply went along without strain. We seemed
to discover secrets together. When we discovered a good one Cass would laugh that laugh-
only the way she could. It was like joy out of fire. Through the talking we kissed and
moved closer together. We became quite heated and decided to go to bed. It was then that
Cass took off her high -necked dress and I saw it- the ugly jagged scar across her throat.
It was large and thick.
"God **** you, woman," I said from the bed, "god **** you, what have you
done?
"I tried it with a broken bottle one night. Don't you like me any more? Am I still
beautiful?"
I pulled her down on the bed and kissed her. She pushed away and laughed, "Some
men pay me ten and I undress and they don't want to do it. I keep the ten. It's very
funny."
"Yes," I said, "I can't stop laughing... Cass, ***** I love you...stop
destroying yourself; you're the most alive woman I've ever met."
We kissed again. Cass was crying without sound. I could feel the tears. The long black
hair lay beside me like a flag of death. We enjoined and made slow and somber and
wonderful love. In the morning Cass was up making breakfast. She seemed quite calm and
happy. She was singing. I stayed in bed and enjoyed her happiness. Finally she came over
and shook me,
"Up, ******* Throw some cold water on your face and pecker and come enjoy the
feast!"
I drove her to the beach that day. It was a weekday and not yet summer so things were
splendidly deserted. Beach bums in rags slept on the lawns above the sand. Others sat on
stone benches sharing a lone bottle. The gulls whirled about, mindless yet distracted. Old
ladies in their 70's and 80's sat on the benches and discussed selling real estate left
behind by husbands long ago killed by the pace and stupidity of survival. For it all,
there was peace in the air and we walked about and stretched on the lawns and didn't say
much. It simply felt good being together. I bought a couple of sandwiches, some chips and
drinks and we sat on the sand eating. Then I held Cass and we slept together about an
hour. It was somehow better than ********** There was flowing together without tension.
When we awakened we drove back to my place and I cooked a dinner. After dinner I suggested
to Cass that we shack together. She waited a long time, looking at me, then she slowly
said, "No." I drove her back to the bar, bought her a drink and walked out. I
found a job as a parker in a factory the next day and the rest of the week went to
working. I was too tired to get about much but that Friday night I did get to the West End
Bar. I sat and waited for Cass. Hours went by . After I was fairly drunk the bartender
said to me, "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, didn't you know?"
"No."
"Suicide. She was buried yesterday."
"Buried?" I asked. It seemed as though she would walk through the doorway at
any moment. How could she be gone?
"Her sisters buried her."
"A suicide? Mind telling me how?"
"She cut her throat."
"I see. Give me another drink."
I drank until closing time. Cass was the most beautiful of 5 sisters, the most
beautiful in town. I managed to drive to my place and I kept thinking, I should have
insisted she stay with me instead of accepting that "no." Everything about her
had indicated that she had cared. I simply had been too offhand about it, lazy, too
unconcerned. I deserved my death and hers. I was a dog. No, why blame the dogs? I got up
and found a bottle of wine and drank from it heavily. Cass the most beautiful girl in town
was dead at 20. Outside somebody honked their automobile horn. They were very loud and
persistent. I sat the bottle down and screamed out: "GOD **** YOU, YOU SON OF A *****
,SHUT UP!" The night kept coming and there was nothing I could do.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
I want to bury myself in books; to not be here.
There is a gnawing at my heart that
will. not. stop.
There is a pain in my soul; a weight upon my chest; an edge to my voice-- a falter in my wall of defense.
I cannot bear this weight of stupidity radiating out from the immature idiots surrounding me.
I cannot exist in such an environment.
I need to go
I need to go
I need to go
I am tired
I am weary
I am DONE.
Shut up.
Stop
Just
Stop.
I cannot eat.
I cannot function.
They are a detriment to my very existence.
What chaos leaving Chaos has erupted in my present day.
You are so childish, so rank, so foolish.
Grow up.
Grow up and leave me.
I need to go
I need to go
I need to go
Escape.
Escape.
I need to be alone.
There is a groaning in my bones that cannot be quiet.
Quiet
QUiet
QUIet
QUIEt
QUIET
I need
quiet.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC