The therapist is just
the rapist of the mind,
he wants to get inside,
wants me to confide,
but I don't,
budge a single step.
I won't dare share
a single tear I have wept.
With your cold sterile hands
and your deathly gaze,
you will never know me
or emerge from this maze.
Perhaps he would like to get something off of his chest?
I'd start with the knife I'm going to plunge into his hideous sweater vest.
Marcuse! Marcuse! Where the fuck are you?
He moved to California and all he could do was argue.
Instead of gratitude through platitudes and assimilation,
He sought to change the west with his social trepidation.
A change is coming, from West to East
As society embraces that Germans beast.
"You're a rapist if I say so, an idiot racist with a scapegoat."
The only fun he ever had was raging in his raincoat.
The man was ungrateful and stole our academia.
Now all schools teach is his prepackaged mass anemia.
Purging true thought, cursing the whole lot while he's at it.
Burning loose crops, as each kids churning an addict.
Marcuse! Marcuse! where the fuck are you?
Marcuse! Marcuse! How the fuck could you?
I saw it through the breakage on the pane
Through the cleavage on the drapes
From the back window I saw it
A man has never been this low I promise
You are the architect of your choices
You are a sum of your choices
I remember the boom
I remember the bass
The Shads of glass
She closed her eyes
She wished it pass
Anywhere but here
He grabbed her hand
She screamed and cried
He pushed her to the ground not a sound with his finger on his lips
As he proceeds gabbing her hips
She tries to push him off
But he was too strong
Just like her dad they were brothers afterall
But I said to myself
It ain't a nothing that a baseball bat or golf club couldn't solve
I ram on the door with my shoulder
I heard her cry out to God to save her
But he didn't answer
Something about free will as usual
He ripped her panties
He Unzipped his pants
Every thrust peaked a scream with his hand on her mouth
Until she became numb to it her resistance faded out...
She lied there like a piece of meat
Motionless not even a blink
And every tear that drifted to her chin from her eyes
Slitted a vein and artery in my heart
She was only 13, couldn't comprehend what had happened to her
He was drunk, one too many bourbon
He's a man, ultimately human
You know how men are
Boys will be boyz
It's her fault for being drop dead gorgeous
Way too presumptuous
Not taking precautions
Too kind, too friendly, too nice
When those eyes that outshine the stars
Looked at him!
They were asking for it.
A beautiful suicide to an ugly life
A tender touch to a hurtful bruise
Am sorry I couldn't breakthrough the metaphorical glass door to you
Am sorry for what I did to you.
I wanted to make a gathering for those breathtaking
boys, those boys who want only one thing from me
who will come up to me, with their liar blue eyes and longish hair
but i'm that ugly, that no boy would look at
it didn't phase me at all, because i don't have the same feelings back
to them, and i lost interest in things so long ago.
I still keep his angel wings that protects me from these rapist
i'm surrounded by.
my ugliness, next to his handsomeness is heaven itself.
I was sitting beside my best friend,
catching up with friends I hadn't seen since they graduated
when you sat down,
It didn't take a genius to tell
my throat was already closing
at the sight of you.
It had been over a year and a half since
I had last seen your face,
yet here I sat,
less than three feet from my rapist.
I received two texts immediately.
From my best friend, who knew everything.
"Are you okay?"
From my other best friend, who knew nothing,
but felt like something was wrong.
Suddenly, everything about that night felt wrong.
I choked on every sentence as it forced its way out of my suddenly tightening throat,
pretending that you were not there.
You see, I've spent so much time
pretending you were not there
that I had begun to wonder if maybe,
you were just a nightmare.
Yet here I sat staring my old friends in the eyes,
more focused than anticipated.
They could tell.
You see, it's a small town,
I didn't need to tell everyone what you did for them to find out.
I thought I was doing well until you spoke to me.
The first words you had directly spoken to me in almost
two and a half years.
"I knew I'd see you here."
I blocked out the rest.
I'd like to block you out, too,
but it seems recurring dreams,
are supposed to teach you something.
I'd like this to make sense,
but the only things I ever learned from you
was to never let my guard down again.
To not love that deeply,
deeply enough that I feel forced to do anything
to prove my love.
I learned I should never have to prove my love.
I should never have loved you.
When you sat across from me and spoke my way,
I couldn't help but think I'd never thought I was going to see you again.
I couldn't help but remember every sleepless night,
such as right now,
where I can't help lie awake in fear you somehow know
just what I am doing,
when I have had you blocked on facebook for three years.
But it's a small town.
Word travels, secrets are never truly safe.
Hushed confessions hop eardrum to eardrum
until they're nothing more than a subtle gasp.
When I finally pulled away from the restaurant,
I drove in so many circles that I got lost--
there are only five roads downtown.
When you finally pull away,
maybe I'll sleep for once--
there is only one of you,
and I wish there were
You said you're not a super hero.
I said you're full of shit.
It's shitty people like him that deserve to be hit.
One punch and he's out.
One punch in the mouth.
He dropped like my panties did when you told me about it.
You punched a potential rapist.
You saved a drunk girl.
You're a super hero in a less than super world.
The Sun's out with his guns out.
Have your contraceptives at the ready,
Because punching potential rapists is undeniably sexy.
Here and there, you called my name
For this is what you christened me
“Maple is a hurricane.”
Here and there you called my name.
Face to face, you’ll ascertain
That this is not the truth, you’ll see
I’m not a fucking hurricane
For this is what you christened me.
Hear, and where you called my name –
Abyss is what you christened me.
Oh, “Maple is a hurricane!”
Said puppeteer’s overt reframe.
Braced and faced, they’ll ascertain
That this just YOUR truth – decreed
You sought a FUCKING hurricane
Within YOURSELF; yet, christened ME.
HURRICANE MEDUSA, Bitches.
and i wonder if we spoke today
you might deny it all.
I wonder if you might care
to hear about
the nightmares, the fear.
Do you think about how
it must affect me
that I have to face you every day?
I can take it
much longer, anyway.
You burn my eyes,
your voice curses my ears.
Your smile swallows me whole
and I wonder,
I truly wonder,
do you even regret it at all?
i'm addicted to destruction, i guess.
wait, let me start over-
i found your journal leaking semi-formed ideas and delirious rants
vaguely shaping your various existential crises
and i wanted to laugh at sharp word, misspelled for dramatic effect;
they never did sound as sweet spilling from your lips like a discordant tangle of noise and statick as they did in the black ink of your low scrawl,
wide valleys stretching between the peaks and lines of your letters like the invisible, insurmountable mountain ranges that kept you away from the rest of the world that your letters run parallel to.
you ran parallel, and we were tangent, meeting once before parting forever.
holding on fucks up the big picture, and boy oh boy, did we set fire to this forest.
the birds have left and the deer have gone; i don’t think anything can grow here again.
but i’m trying not to blame you for what you had to do to survive
but it’s difficult when you fucking tore me open, and that’s not a figure of speech.
it’s not easy to excuse a dragon when you can still feel their breath misting your neck, a fine peppering of acid directly from their mouth,
turning someone into art doesn’t erase your guilt.
yeah, i’m still a belligerent idiot, but you are still a rapist.
by the way, a memo from my vagina: you’re not seven inches.