The things you’ve taken from me
cannot be counted,
cannot be listed,
cannot be measured

like the passage of time since that day
where I have stagnated,
the taste of my own blood

still rich upon my tongue
and other tastes that are not mine,
now belonging to me

a memory torn to pieces
yet burning with white hot precision

I have buried myself in blankets,
drink, drugs and denial

but I cannot change the truth
the bloodied, fleah torn fact
that you were once

inside me

Mind on the brink,
Sunk thoughts in a blink
Who’s there?………
                            ….Where are you?….
….What?…
                                                    …no..

Scotty didn’t know,
What brother did in tow,
How greasy hands touch upon the innocent
A daughter doesn’t tell,
The scars they never show.

Scotty doesn’t know
Wife got out the papers,
The lawyer signed and notarized
Waiting for the right time
Manilla envelope creased with sweaty hand prints.

Scotty was fond of rope,
But could never buy a vowel,
Clues left him clueless to the truth
The pills make him expel the bowels.

Scotty doesn’t know,
The voices aren’t real,
Brother looks like a nephilim
Wings made of goose down and paper meal
He’s dancing upon the tree tops
Trying to write the words,
Striking out as the swing tightens.

Scotty was playing hangman,
Tire rope swing, swung
Saying goodbye to the demons
Voices that ring his bells rung
How his brother never loved him,
Only the fruits of his own creation,
And with her lost innocence premeditated
He offered to solve the puzzle,
Eyes dilated.

A fly lazily perched on my computer,
it brushed its legs against each other.
Like you used to.

I stared at its black eyes,
dark like your gaze when you gripped me by hand
and pulled me away into your bedroom.

I remember how dark the world seemed
when I shut my eyes,
counting every second.
Hoping that it’d make it fade,
make it stop,
make it less real.

But the fly’s legs were thin, fragile, small,
tiny the same way I felt powerless
when you were around.

And then the fly flew away.
It swept through the window, free.
Oblivious to my catching breath,
while I hyperventilated
trapped between the memories
of what you have already forgotten.

w h o r e
     what a life
shamed for the hands I never wanted upon myself
scorned for the advantage he took
the advantage he took because I was broken
too broken to refuse
voice drowned out

because he's all I ever had

“What’s the harm?” they whisper,
“What’s the problem
in being everyone’s fantasy?”
“In having all of your friends
find your flesh attractive?”
“Having the pretty privilege
morph into the entitlement of others?”

As they claim my skin
and caress my bones.
Peeling pieces of my body
and making themselves at home.

Consent is implied
within the lines
of whatever bond we hold.
Friends, family, lovers.
What’s the harm in giving them
what they want,
what they demand they need.
In watching them eat you up
With a never ending greed.

“But you’re my fantasy”
as if I’m obligated
to the impressions of me
you’ve shoved down my throat.
Until I’m choking and sobbing
pleading you to relinquish your hold.

Your eyes leave imprints and bruises
as you salivate over a body
I don’t even see.
It was only 3rd grade.
Again, when merely rending
the damaged goods of a teen.
By the time I was an adult
it was the only way I was seen.

But age matters not,
when you were never perceived
as a human being,
simply a desire
for others to devour.

“What’s the harm in being a *** dream?”
They scream “we’re all friends here”
as they render my sobriety to shreds
Only to tell me that it’s all in my head.

Society taught me to turn a blind eye,
“what’s the harm?” It said with a sigh.
They drugged me with ignorance,
refuting my plea.

A passing inconvenience for you
Born of my own naïveté,
is a trauma memory
that I can never undo.

There isn’t a piece of me
you’ve not seen,
nothing left of myself
to discover.
You’ve rendered my own exploration
into nothing more than a detour.

You’ve taken every first
I could have claimed
and thought to beat a dog
was the equivalent of making it tame. 
So now I’m sobbing into a void
wondering why I was ever
a thing that you could destroy?

I hate your touch
I hate your words
I hate your hands
I hate your chords

The music was blinding
I hated that too
The passion was frightening
I hated that you

Tried taking advantage
Of naivety
I hated it
Hated that

Your touch scares me
Your words scare me
Your hands scare me
Your chords scare me

I hate your face
I hate your mouth
I hate your stance
I hate your sound

The music was crying
I hated that too
The passion was dying
I hated that you

Tried laying blame on
My comfortability
I hated it
Hated that

Your face scares me
Your mouth scares me
Your stance scares me
Your sound scares me

I’m scared of all
You say and do
I’m scared of you
And I hate your you.

You’re such a greedy lover when
You’re lovin her
Holdin her down
Stealin her crown
And power
Deflowerin every flower
When you devour
From your tower
And hour after
Hour after
Hour after
While you cower and
Cower and
Cower and

You’re showerin her with kisses
After missin her
Hidin away
Sayin you can’t stay
And pray
‘Bout preyin on every prey
That you lay
Without a place
Out of place out of
Leaving without a trace a
Trace a
Trace a
Of your face
In her space

You’re a disgrace for tryin be
Graceful
It’s distasteful
You say you gotta face full
of “empathy”
Say you have “emotional telepathy”
Work with me
Can’t you see?
Hour after
Hour after
Hour glasses
Are what you need
She’s not free
From your greed
And
You’re a greedy lover when
You’re lovin her