Paint yourself with sores and wounds
Broken bones and a broken soul
Allow yourself to wallow in self pity, self loathing
You deserve it

I truly believe that you are the worst kind of person
Apathy is all you deserve
You used another person as a toy for your own pleasure
I feel no empathy when you are terrified by the horrors you've created

Your eyes have finally been opened
Watering as they are bombarded with smoke and flames
The destruction you have caused, created, entertained yourself with?
It's permanent. You cannot fix this. It's done.

Don't crying poor victim,
When both you and I know you're not.
Leave her alone to she can find her smile again.
Try to fix yourself before you go fixing someone else.

Five years old and they
   could not hear me in the backyard --
   I called out, the gate was locked and
  the screen door, mesh frayed at the handle,
  was locked too -- I could see it --
  and they still couldn't hear me and I
     was afraid and the mesh
     was frayed and my little finger
         just barely fit through and then
             aunt Lucy came and made sure
                 that I was punished.

(The reward for my fear was
the most frightening and humiliating
experience of my childhood)

                   I hid.

"Get out here!" my father yelled
and his voice made me flinch and
trembling I unhid.

       my uncle and aunt watched
as my father spanked me
harder and angrier than ever before,

       my uncle and aunt watched
the shock of every blow
reverberating
through my tiny body
                                    until

       my uncle and aunt watched
everything let go
and I ****** myself on the floor
in front of them

weeping and violated

I do not remember what was said after

they left the room and
I was alone with my shame
while the sun fell the walls
faded blue the ride home
was silent --

-- all over some torn mesh
      and doors they should not have locked.

I respect therapists
like I respect anthropologists,
they dig and encounter an ampersand,
they can always inform beforehand
and foreshadow results,
but they found my bones
below 6 feet
and can’t form an answer,
they knew where to search
they found the ticking finger
pointing at lazy fissures,
and buried blisters
but dripping shovels
keep raising a faded flag
that says
“they’re nothing here keep moving”

Chocolate cake with icing same
and candles full of color.
Lights are off and fire on
singing to me from you.
Happy birthday, dear Christina
now you're 22.
Make a wish and make it good
I promise, it will come true.
But my wish is one I cannot work for
it's about my soul.
To be happy with myself again
without any help from you.

How much pain do I have to be in
for it to be real to you?
Will it be when I create the
harmless pain of freezing ice?
Or when I give myself a silver blade
to draw the blood out?
Maybe when I attempt
to **** myself?
Then will you understand the pain
when you visit my gravestone?

You tell me,
      -take off your bracelets
      -roll up your sleeves
      -don’t be afraid

               .

I hear you say,
      -I want to see
      -I want to know
      -be brave with me

               .

Then I think,
      ~if you saw
      ~you would stay
      ~until you couldn’t

               .

No matter what you tell me,
and the trust I put in you,
when you see the true pain I’m in,

         ~ - ~ - ~

     you’ll be scared,
          *just like me.