sitting in his invented prison
where misgivings are never forgiven
restricted to only visits from visions
in his dimension of endless renditions

condemned to exist within mental schism
with his stiffest self sentence given
never forgetting misdeeds and decisions
only existing to revisit volitions

These mental movies playing in subdued technicolor;
An entrapment that seduces my entire consciousness like a glimmering silverware under the sun.
It has kept me enthralled, convinced me to strip myself out of my worn out realism,
Then lead me through a journey that is neither truth nor a dream.
These constructed storylines which overpower my will to resist,
Leaving me no choice but to surrender upon its bittersweet, artificial melody.
How tempting and dangerously self-depreciating it is to let myself be consumed by an illusion's thorn-filled embrace,
Emphasizing in persistent bold letters the cruel honesty that it projects.

you are literally haunting me tonight
this is a strange dream
and I don't know if it is the alcohol

you are also there
why are you in my dreams?
I have not felt you in a long time

there are these others that give me butterflies

i go to high school
the love of my life and I are together
he is here too

flashback
we are crying
flashback
I am on his lap and he is singing in my ear
flashback
he grabs my wrist too hard this time
flash back
I wake up with a smile hearing him in the shower
flashback
my mouth is awoken with kissing and tickles
flashback
he is crying and I don't know why
GOD PLEASE I'LL BELIVE FOR HIM
he cannot stop
sit down babe sit down
his eyes are so red
like blood

I don't want to cry
I need to be strong like always
I am a Stamm
I am STRONG

he is falling around
God help me please
what is happening to his brain

flash forward
the next morning

you didn't talk about it
you didn't want to
just Xanax

I have this dream
where you won't stop crying
and you won't tell me why
I am just trying to be ******* strong ******* it!! I LOVE YOU!! LOOK AT ME!! SHOULD I CALL AN AMBULANCE?! PLEASE BABE I AM SO SCAred.
Please
babe. Look at me why are you crying.
'whispers'
       please babe just tell me why are you crying
please it's ok it's ok please it's ok it's ok


my tears fall down the dark nape of your neck and your large head is cradled in my arms
I sat on his lap
but I cradled his 200lb body with the 150lbs I had
he shook and it used to wake me up at night
he would get the shivers
and I was so afraid he would "be like a cup, spilling over with just a touch"
I found out that day that love can really hurt
I found out that day I was in love...


flash forward
I've been taking benzos the past week
it amazes me how I feel so much relief
when even a piece of anxiety
flutters
like a moth off my neck

then they wear off
and I hate my true feeling

who knows how many I've taken
blacking out is my trend again

i am going to go to sleep now
please stay away

I only cry about you once a week now!!!
Once a week Justice!!
If you could read this I think you would be proud of me.
I hope one day when we are older we can talk like we weren't lovers.

I am sorry I touched your face Justice.
That was very immature.
I guess the best thing to say, is when someone is passionate.... When someone truly would put their life on the line for a person, in this case two people... And they do something that would normally hurt her....

I wanted to **** myself.... ok?
I thought I mattered to only two people
and it turned out I didn't.
I have never been so broken in my entire life.

Not as broken all of the neglect and mental abuse from an alcoholic father,
from being kicked out of my own house at 18,
having a mother who called me fat since I was 11,
not from having a boyfriend who hit me when I was 15,
worse than hiding my cut marks with silly bands in middle school ,
no you know I was broken by something else.

The love of my life and the best friend of my life going behind my back and being together.

My "future husband" hah
and my maid of "honor".      ****

But I fought through everything
through the cutting
the binge drinking
******* to feel something ANYTHING
requesting rough ***
starving myself
going through a car accident
I made it back.


Without the help of you two.

Now I work with kids 4 days a week, I am Ms.Shauna Mon - Wednesday for 2,3,4, and 5th graders, and on Thursday's I am Coach Stamm. I empower young girls to love who they are and to be healthy and to stomp any bad feeling about themselves with every stride in every cross country run.

So


Please leave me alone.
Figure all of your ****** **** up now
I'll do the same to you.
please please for my mental state

I'm sitting in a desk,
towards the back of the room,
the first time I have a flashback about you in class.

You're sitting across the room,
but it feels as if you're breathing down my neck.
My concentration shifts from taking notes,
to an all too vivid memory.

Suddenly I'm pinned down
on my own bed
with you towering over me.

The teacher talks of hominids,
but all I hear is my own screams.
A chorus of "No"
that was heavily ignored.

My breathing is shallow,
my heartbeat is rapid.

I've missed an entire slide by the time I snap out of it.

I'm not gonna borrow the notes from you, that's for sure.


(d.d.b)

i tried to picture myself without you, but i couldn't.
now here i am without you and i still can't picture it.

But I can’t go anywhere in this small, god-forsaken town without seeing you and having a panic attack.
Do you realize this at all?

Sometimes I can’t sleep in my own ******* bed because you made it a crime scene when you shoved me down on it while I screamed “No.”

You ****** me up. You still **** me up. And you will never be punished.

That in itself is ****** up.


(d.d.b)

I don't want to fall asleep becuase I know you'll be in my nightmares

Your touch.
Your voice.
Your sly smile.

The way you always take "No"
to mean "Yes."

I fight the unconciousness my body craves to save my mind from the vicious terror that is the memory of you*


(d.d.b)

I wonder if I'll ever forget that feeling,
That loss;
And all of this uncertainty.

I wish I could just pack up these memories and emotions and just throw them out the window and watch them soar into the sky.

I just want to be able to breath,
But even breathing becomes hard when the flashbacks do nothing but choke me alive.

                                       Alysia Marie 2015 ©

Sometimes I get one of those nostalgic feelings rush through me whenever I get a whiff of fresh plaster or spackle. It reminds me of all those times my dad would have to patch up another hole in one of the walls. At one point he would only do it once a week. When you know that there’ll just be more the next day, why not wait a while and fix them all at the same time? Eventually he stopped fixing them altogether. I used to think it meant it was okay and that when I got angry enough I could just put a hole in the wall too and add to the collection of broken bits of my family. When my parents discovered the accumulation of chasms in my wall, my dad made me learn how to fix them because I was not allowed to react the same way as my brother. Needless to say, I rarely put my hand or foot through the walls after the first 2 times I had to fix them. I wish there was some way they could have managed to get my brother to fix the voids he’d created. Perhaps, he’d have learned how much the damage you inflict can affect those around you. I know I certainly did.

I remember hiding under an old cherry wood dining table. I remember holding my baby sister, shielding her eyes, covering her and trying to tuck her away. Pulling her as close to me as possible, like I might be able to fold her skin into mine so she wouldn’t have to see what was happening around us. I can still hear her crying into my bony 7 year old shoulder and whaling amongst the chaos with the bitty 4 year old voice that she had at the time. I remember the heart stopping feeling of watching my mother get thrown into the wall and watching my brother, 11 years older than myself, hurtle the beautiful antique silver coffee *** that my grandmother left us- into the space near her head where it bludgeoned the wall. I remember barely being taller than the table myself and pulling my sister out when I saw a chance for us to escape the scene and run into another room.  I remember turning around and seeing my older sister, who was 10 at that time, running up and hitting and kicking my brother and getting shoved to the side. I’ve grown accustomed to the headaches I now get at the sight of flashing police lights.