‪Things you don’t say to‬
People who
Suffer from trauma
And traumatic life
Those worlds are....
Spazz
Spazzing out
And spazzed out.  
Say that and you
Will see how ******
The universe really
Is!!!

Nerve damage is
A hell I wouldn't wish upon my
Worst enemy
Six hours of
Constant agony
Sapping my energy for
Anything but curling in the
Fetal position, phone on hand
I can't think
I can't function
Trigeminal neuralga
The most innocuous name
For incurable torture

When I was very young, I started to develop an eating disorder.

I was a toddler. My parent's first child and I went mental when they tried to serve me vegetables.

I would discard them in the radiator and sooner than later a technician was called.

And my parent's were appalled when they realized the reason was that their child refused to eat what she was served.

This continued into early childhood.

I lived with my grandmother who I've called Grandy forever.

She made the same three dishes every week. Macaroni Pie, Rice, or Potatoes.

On the odd occasion,  I would get pizza or pasta.

Macaroni and Cheese, or something else that pleased my taste buds.

I quickly tired of this pattern and a disgust for these meals arose.

I could no longer eat them without wanting to *****.

When I was no older that four years old, my parents tried to feed me a few days or a week old alphageti. That was the first time I ever gaged on a meal.

But those moments came more often than I would like as I grew.

I filled up on chocolates and candy, slices of pepperoni so I wouldn't have to eat the **** I din't like.

This distaste of my Grandy's food turned into a fear of food itself.

I couldn't be experimental, I hated having to eat.

I wished I could just take a pill and defeat the hunger that haunted me.

For years I became anorexic. And not because I wanted too, but because for all that time food was my enemy.

When I was in daycare, I hated sweets of any kind and had never had a sip of soda. But once night when my parents were late to pick me up.

All Dee had was marshmellows and seven up.

I hated the sweet treats that would burn my teeth and the soda that would burn my tongue.

But I was young and no one cared.

I didn't allow myself to eat for several years until I ended up falling in love with a girl who cares.

But some nights when I am drunk and to lazy too cook,

I find myself in the kitchen eating an uncooked hot dog,  

and I remember where it all came from.

I still hate sweets and soda to this day.

But at least now,

I eat.

Sometimes
I just sit
And feel
The adrenaline
That courses
In my veins
Constantly
I caress it
Let it flow
Through my flesh
Feel it run
Down my spine
Through my arms
To the tips
Of my fingers
Sometimes it makes
Me sick
My stomach turns
Aches
My head beats
Loudly
Droning
To my pulse
Which is consistent
And fast
I smile
I love it
I want more
I feel like a
Maniac

As long as I can remember
I had this friend
Only, I didn't see her
I only felt her touch

At first, no one else saw her
She blended in with me
We appeared as one
And maybe we were

Over time, she grew impatient
She got louder, stronger
She'd rage and throw fits
But they still didn't see her

She learned to scream from my lips
Shutting me down
She took control over me
And I hid beneath her

She told me she'd protect me
And I believed every word
She had always been there
So there she ought to stay

Until she grew so loud
Others began to see
She shoved me so far down inside
And told me she knew best

Every thought, feeling, action
Was under her control
She held a toy gun to my head
And convinced me it was real

When she grew too loud,
Everyone could see
I didn't know
What was wrong with me

When I finally had the power
To put her in her place
She begged, clawed, and fought
Using every bit of strength

But I won

Now she sits quietly
Able to offer advice
Only when I ask her
Does she ever take control

Slowly but surely
I've found my way out
Of the cage she created
Deep within my self

sitting across from you
at the white kitchen table
or cross-legged on my side of the bed
is someone hollow.
not as sweet as a fig. not as dead
as the inside of a black rotting trunk
but close. i do not hold beautiful things
like a terracotta vase. inside my head
is a seam ripper that splits everything
down the middle. sometimes
you are standing in front of the bright window,
glowing like a saint. sometimes
i let you fall into an algae-lined pool
that i will not pay to have cleaned.
everything is floating within me.
i haven’t figured out
how to anchor this stuff down.

no one ever taught me how

I remember the feeling.
Like I was getting rid
Of every foul thing inside me.
I would feel so-
Empty.
But at the time
It was better than feeling everything.
And sometimes I would just lay there
And I would cry.
I was so ashamed
Of my bathroom coping mechanisms.
Brush my teeth
So the acid wouldn't make them yellow.
Appearances seemed to be important.
Had to be thin,
Had to be empty.

I didn't realize then
That I was wasting away
That there was another way
To purge my feelings.
But I know now.
I know now.

You saved me.

As I walk into a dark cave
I am not able to see
Until I turned on the torch.
I am confronted
By the sight and presence
Of fierce deities
The energy
Demonic
I realize
Am
Looking at my own demons.