The darkness closes in
I can no longer see
A black fog over powers me
I can no longer breathe
It fills me with sadness
A feeling I can't explain
It takes away everything
Leaves you empty and in pain
It laughs at your fears
And throws them in your face
I feel broken and scared
Will this ever go away?

Ah me, what can I do?
I see the fear and the pain,
The terror and the unfair gain,
The starving masses through a screen,
News reported blandly;
A woman *****, her strangled throat
Cannot voice her pain,
Black children shot, democracies rot;
We must enrol to vote.
Yes! Use our voices and
Pick the suited white man, who
Best represents our feelings;
We might as well be kneeling
As picking from that self-same lot
Of narrow minds and paunchy pots,
Ah me! If I only knew
What I could do.
For now I only have these tossing thoughts
So hard to sort, or to abort;
Truth and lies, life, demise,
So I only utter, as I watch the TV screen
A silent scream;
Ah me! One day, will I find my voice?*
Voice my findings and my rage?
Have enough nous, be enough sage
To let that scream be heard,
And crack through the screen’s merde?

A good day
Makes for a worse night
A night of being slave
To the powerless hourglass
Full of crisp dry sand
From some far away land  
Where the beaches are clean
And swept twice a day
To maintain there perfection
And nauseating glimmer

While here I am
Staring at it's grains    
Waiting for all hope to fall
And my time to be up
Because I love this moment
love it to pieces
I'm lucky
And if I could stay in it forever
And ever
I would
without the slightest hesitation
But while all I can see
Is this invisible hourglass
Draining the imaginary time
That I have left
I can see the sun rise and set

And I was here before

I used to stare
At the beautiful clocks on the wall
And fell with a bang
As they stopped.

****** abuse in itself is not the worst crime. No. The aftermath is. The invisible **** that happens over and over again every time you close your eyes.  That shiver that runs down your spine whenever someone places a hand on your shoulder or jumps out and shouts "boo" at you. They way you hold your keys between your knuckles every time you have to walk alone at night. The way your heart races when you are home alone and hear a noise in the house. No the actually act alone isn't the worst. The worst is feeling unsafe in every aspect of everything you will ever do. The worst is smelling his cologne everywhere you go. Sensing his presence when you know you are alone. The worst is breathing everyday. Just breathing when all you want to do is stop.

The worse is how your body decays in every spot that he touched even years after. I am rotting from the inside out. He injected dirt into my veins like a drug.

The worst is scrubbing until your skin is raw, until the water runs cold, yet still being consumed in filth. The worst is how one act, done by one person, over a length of time can so alter everything about you. Like my DNA has been rewritten. The worst thing is how it replays in your mind like a broken record that continues to skip.

Or how small it makes you feel, so powerless.  Such a greatness of nothing.and how that nothing consumes you. Then you wonder how being nothing can be so vast.  How feeling like nothing can become something that lasts forever.

The worst is trying to believe that your body is anything more then a wasteland when you know that that's all it ever is, and was, and ever will be. Daring to think that maybe you are beautiful and  deserving of more and having the mirror tell you that that is a lie.

No ****** abuse in itself is not the worst crime. The worst is how that one act wipes away everything that you are like an eraser on a chalk board and now all you are is the things that have happened. Now I am pain. I am hurt. I am the cuts on my skin.

The worst is feeling like you are lying every time you say that you are more then what he made you.

It's taking over my life.
It's taking control of me.
I give into its wishes.
I listen to its commands.
It declares my every move.
I'm a puppet and it's my master
holding the strings,
holding the reins to my life
It dominates me.
It restrains me.
It keeps me paralyzed.
But I can't ask for help.
Asking for help admits defeat.
I can never admit defeat.
Defeat means weakness.
Weakness means I'm powerless.
When I'm powerless,
I'm,
     hopeless.

Grasping vagrancy in one's child
Most simplistic act is not
Fractured maternal heart bleeds wild
Suffered soul the abyss caught
Crucible ever prevails fraught

Futile remedy ailment breeds
Posturing all heedless things
Neglecting primal earthly needs
Harsh inebriant trappings
Averse entirely lucid pleads

Clamping malady straining chest
Wakeful blackness vanished days
Clutched slight suckling babe at my breast
Cast tears enduring malaise
Reflection of having caressed

Tragic sustinence chosen vile
Sighted resolves not to see
Relentless self imposed exile
Indifferent to love me
Offer life to capture a smile

Grasping vagrancy in one's child
Cognizant of special spot
An alternative to beguiled
Alter processes of thought
I am needing to know she fought