the battle cry for
creative violence is:

"Diversify the wounds!"

When I let myself love you
I grow to hate myself
I worry about your comfort
While my neck is strained and
You bite me too hard

How can I forget that I am precious?

I found a **** coffee mug
It tickles my lips when I drink
I love to fill it with cold water
And drive fast on the highway
On a sunny day

Now, I sit here tanning far away
Listening to **** voices on the stereo
With a beer and a smoke and
I wonder why you haven’t called

see a light at the end of the road
I sit in the dark
nowhere to go

try to sleep
never want to wake up

wish I could stop my mind from thinking
in my dream, can't escape my feelings

I want to laugh
but I don't know how
when I'm alone, you can't see me frown

I see no beauty, but I know you do
if I had my way
I'd never move

you try to reach me, but I don't even care
we pretend that I'm real, but I'm not really there

turn my face away
block out my eyes
and my sighs
guilt will not interfere
with your pleasure
let my anonymous skin be
the receptacle for your fantasy
you can call me your little “blank”
you tell me you love me but
i will writhe under your tender cruelty
and we will never acknowledge
that i am facing the wall
and not your tears

I have to shut my eyes
When I make love to you

Sometimes,
You are so infantile
That I recoil from your touch

You are soft and hairless
Fair and smooth
When you whimper in my arms
I cringe

The other day I tried to imagine him in my space

My stomach seized and my face flushed
when I pictured him sitting on the furniture  
His actions are indelicate and dangerous

he is leaving traces  

I am overwhelmed by his oafishness
even in my own mind

He throws his mass around destructively
like a large, clumsy animal
  
The smell of his body
is overpowering in my small space  
His breathe makes my nostrils shut
when I try to inhale

I remember the night
that he returned from the buffet table
with food piled in a single column
from a hand held at his belt right up to his chin
  
It was cheese cubes, crackers and grapes
and he danced back to our table
with out dropping a thing  

He sat down next to me,
smacking his lips and drooling
  
I thought that I would puke
when he offered me a grape
from his cheesy fist.

wearing hoods
(like a cloak)
to hide our faces
we would be mothers slink
into hospitals for
discreet procedures

we size each other up
wonder who did
what? who was
careless? who was
unlucky?

who is
being selfish
right now?  

we watch tv
eyes darting to check
out the new arrival

in the room with
the nurses i get my drugs
i am confused when the doctor arrives
my legs are secure in stirrups
but my head slides
she chooses now
to ask me how it happened
(don’t doctors know?)

she lectures me
about birth control
tells me she doesn’t ever
want to see me
in here again
like the guy
at the seven eleven
when i stole
a chocolate bar at age twelve




there is prodding and suction
but i’m too high to care
a nurse tells a story
about a friend  
with a bad flu
and there is the hum
of the little vacuum

i try to tell them
about my friend
who chugged Buckleys
cough syrup to catch her breath
in basketball
but they ignore me or
maybe i’m so high
that i don’t realize that
i’m not talking anyways
it’s too bad
it’s a funny story

they wheel me into a room
where i sit with other women
in loungers letting
the drugs wear off

we bleed
through our gowns
get paraded to
the bathroom to change
archaic belted pads

blood stains our robes
for everyone to see
every girl’s worst nightmare