I've always hated hospitals.
White walls, plain and bare
With those glaring, unforgiving linoleum floors
What am I doing here?
I am not ill
But my parents always used it as a threat
When I panicked
Or when I was just upset as a young child.
It has been embedded into my brain that
"This is where the bad kids go."
And I'll just get passed from doctor to doctor
Because no one wants to handle me.
So now the stench of sickness
Smells more like a jail cell.

A sharp edge takes courage
But dull blades sting more.

Addiction.
no one quite knows
how to define it.
for one in the throws of this.
is it Beautiful
or is it Vile?
Selfless
or is it Vain?
one can only speculate.

Recovery.**
another riddle
with a hint of ambiguity
that a person can only
hope to determine the meaning of.
Painful
or Freeing?
Pointless
or Meaningful?
i can never tell
if it is only here for a season
and leaves just as easily.
just as swiftly.

as for now
i am still a prisoner, held captive
to this paradox.

Glassy eyes
Slurred speech
Delirium
Or something of the sort.

Brush my hair out of my face
I want you to kiss me
But I don't.
I'm not sure how I feel
And yet, I do not stop.
Why do I set myself up for regret?

We're ready to explode.
It's written all over our
Morphine mouths
******* cheeks
****** voices
That resonate silently.

We're so wasted
This youth
This generation
Kids these days
Or, that's what they call it.

It's all our fault, too?
Last time I checked,
You will reap what you sow.

Every cause has an effect
And for every action, a reaction
Risk may yield reward
And so I risk my life for you.

With the
Desire the purge
Craving to cut
Need for escape

And the
Opportunity to drown out
My body's grievances
Why wouldn't I?

I'd be lying if I said
I haven't done it
I didn't have have weak days
My body doesn't ache for that
Lovely and disgusting
Physiological quench.

And yet they tell me
I'm lazy
I don't do enough
It doesn't matter that
I'm on my feet for eleven or twelve hours at a time every day
I'm working my *** off
I'm still recovering from an eating disorder.
But no, it doesn't matter
I still have no right to complain in their minds.

But wait**
I am a pretty good secret keeper
Sometimes.
Is it possible that
I am too talented at keeping my emotions locked away?
Maybe, just maybe,
They just don't *know.

Temporary pain?
Thoughts caress a suicidal mind
Spinning and tripping
Spinning and falling
Losing it.
And you are trying to tell me
This goes away?

Running the risk of sounding pessimistic
I question that idea.
Stuck between evasion and circumstance
Cornered in the darkest place
Eerier than you ever imagined
More vile than you ever dreamed.

So weep, dear child
Sob.
Then they whisper in your ear
Everything will get better.
How dare they?

You mention thoughts of death
Of self-inflicted ******
And they pierce you like a weapon.
Telling you its selfish
And that this will come to an end.

In my opinion,
Life's payoff is not a reason to stay alive.
If you expect the pain to end
And to have joy brought back to you
You will be disappointed.
The rationale for continuing to move
Is that if you're here, I believe,
There is a reason.
You want to discover that
And you will
As long as you keep breathing.

Helpless
Cold
Shaking
Broken
Untouchable
Hardened.

Do you see what you've done?
You have
Premeditated
Considered
Lusted for control
Desired
Executed
Attacked
Left.

Her intoxication is not an excuse.
Her skirt did not scream
"Yes!"
The fact that she is passed out
Does not mean that she hopes to wake up
With you and your friends on top of her.
Silence does not equal consent.

When will these big shots in the government
Stop preaching about "legitimate ****"
And other ******* that has to do
With a woman's ****** rights?

The church needs to stop condoning
Men giving into their whims
To dominate and control their wives.
Whether they're dating, married
Or freaking connected by a body part
If she says no
That ends it.
Period.

It started with a game.
She was innocent, but she wanted to be older.
Grow up too fast.
Be a "big kid".
After all, they have all the fun, don't they?
All her cousins were older, and she was always the one tagging along.

She hung out with an older cousin.
About seven years older than her.
Alone, in a room
A bedroom.
Just them two, and so he says
"Let's play a game."

This sounded intriguing to her seven year-old ears.
So she responds:
"Game?"

"Yes, truth or dare."
Is his reply.
They play.
Several questions in, he says:
"Crawl on top of me and kiss me."
He motions to his crotch.

The girl is horrified.
"No!  That's icky!"
She says.
He lies, tells her it is what all the big kids do.
Her seven year-old brain is confused.
"Really?"

"Yes, don't you want to be a big kid?  Oh come on."
She considers.  Considers.  Considers.
He taps into her emotions one more time.
"Fine, I'll get someone else to play then."

This child does not want to be seen as a coward.  A loser.  A little kid.
The rest is a blur.

The factors:
A bed
Asperger's Syndrome
A teen on his back
A terrified child climbing on top of him

The actions:
Hands, his on her torso
Kissing, her on his crotch
Touching, him.  Her.  Both players find fault.

The results:
Molestation.
Guilt.
Fear.
Promiscuity.
Shame.
Silence.

­Suddenly this game isn't fun anymore.
He doesn't do it again, never even threatens her.
They see each other plenty and act perfectly fine.
It accumulates in her for seven years, until she tells a guidance counselor.
Freshman year, fourteen, tender age.
She lets go of her secret, and by the end of sophomore year has become very confident.
Junior year she is flying, and that is where the story leaves off

My story, my (somewhat) happy ending.
I still struggle every day.
When society teaches girls not to be abused instead of boys not to abuse,
I cringe.
How was I supposed to know what was right and what was not at age seven?
I was not at fault.

What I would like to know is
When men are going to step up and take accountability
When men are going to say enough is enough
When men are going to stand up with their *****, molested and assaulted
Sisters, girlfriends, mothers, and friends

Guys, most likely a female you are in close accordance with has been abused
Whether you know it or not
According to some insane one in three statistic
I am asking you, begging you, pleading with you
Stand up and speak out

Educate each other
Create a new definition of "manliness"
Not just who can get laid the most
But who is the most respectful

Considering most ****** assaulters are men
Please stand up for me.
From every sexually abused woman, child and man on this planet