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You're outraged and shocked by this depiction of you—
drunken pussy grabber (who couldn’t get it another way).
Maybe you don’t remember, but here’s something true—
a drunk blacks out, and what he does then, he might not have done sober.
So many actions, later to rue,
to  come back to haunt--and there’s no do-over.
My take on Kavanaugh: A drunk. Couldn't get a girlfriend in high school. Still a drunk now probably, and in total denial.
Aaron LaLux Sep 29
I was sexually abused when I was a child,
the only light at the end of that tunnel,
is that it wasn’t done,
by a family member,

but it was done,
and I don’t even remember,
as much as Christine Blasey Ford does,
nor have I ever had to testify,

all I remember was the taste of that cock,
and how it taste like buried secrets,
the way they ferment and rot,
when lodged in the gut and not allowed to surface,

see we’ve all been abused,
and not a single one of us deserved it,
so now we serve this life sentence of guilty regret-ness,
which in turn as positioned me in service,

oh America The Beautiful,
when did we become so broken,
everyone’s got a story,
of either being abused or abusing,

watched the Judge Kavanaugh hearing,
watched Dr. Christine struggle to retell her tale,
under the glaring lights of the TV cameras,
under the glaring stare of a bunch of older white males,

I mean let’s put it into perspective,
here is a lady who’s held this secret for years,
and then in an instant she was broadcast worldwide,
for the whole world to hear,

her life will never be the same,
she’s admitted her most private moments to the public,
and all because to the highest court in the country,
this demon from her past is about to be appointed,

and I don’t know what my point is,
maybe I don’t have one,
like a lonely kid,
who’s only role model is a fictional superhero,

because he doesn’t have an honorable father,

a lonely kid,
who’s only friend is his pet dog,
that he takes faithfully with him,
we he goes on walks just to get lost,

doesn’t have a destination,
still he feels like he’s in a rush,
can’t focus his attention and is always impatient,
and don’t know where to go and only wants to find the love,

and when he tries to speak up to tell someone what’s up,
he’s just dismissed as ignorant and told to hush,
and what does it mean when a sexual predator,
has the title of Judge,

how can someone that acts so immorally,
be put in a position to weigh the scales of justice evenly,
maybe there’s no right and wrong anyways,
maybe nothing is for certain and there are no guarantees,

maybe,
maybe not,
but I do know one thing for certain,
wherever I go the trauma from my past is brought,

because I was sexually abused when I was a child,
and the only light at the end of that tunnel,
is that it wasn’t done,
by a family member…

∆ LaLux ∆
ruth Sep 28
She takes the stand
With the voice of millions on her back
And speaks the fact that we all know,
far too well to be true -                  
                                           Me too.

She is heard but not believed,
She is heard with faith deceived .

When will it be enough -
Is one in six not enough ?
Is one sister, one friend
still - not enough?

one colleague, one mother, one wife, one lover -
one teacher, one doctor, one preacher, one author -
one husband, one son, one brother.
Which one will it take, to stop
the non-consensual clock
and make us realise that -

Time. Is. Up.
This is something I’ve wanted to write about for a while but I’ve never found myself truly inspired to until Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. I have been affected by this and multiple other women I know have too.
This needs to end.
sarabande Sep 26
when i was six years old
i did not want to be a child
i tried to grow up as desperately as
a sick man seeks a cure

when i was ten years old
i was taught that i was owned
by the boys that made a habit of
putting their hands where they don't belong

when i was twelve years old
he joked, "why are you crying, lesbo?"
as the tears dried on my cheeks
and he pushed between my legs

when i was fourteen years old
boys were replaced by men
fingers were replaced by wounds
the worst ones never healed over

when i was fifteen years old
gym was disturbed by cops who
took my phone and carted me away
showed me a bear and said "point to where they touched you"

when i was sixteen years old
two pills weren't enough for me
i settled for a bottle and found myself
scorned by the nurses who saved me

when i was seventeen years old
i met a girl with fire for hair
with lilac petals for skin and
with a sapphire for a heart

i am still seventeen years old
she is still new, abstract, to me
i am not healed, but her fingers
lock delicately in my own

she is not the boys i met before
or the men i met before
she is a beautiful change, she is
a sunrise peeking over the horizon
Elisabeth Sep 14
She is brutal.

She will tear my skin,

Bruise my knees,

And blacken my eyes.



But she is also a gentle dove

And she can be kind.

When I succeed she gives me sweets

And gives back my missing pieces.



She is my mistress.

Her’s is the name on my collar,

She has the lead.

And she keeps control until she hands me off to him.



Though I know him not,

He will heal my body.

Let me have the control,

And finally give me peace.
Elisabeth Sep 14
I see your gaze tunneled blurry

I know you only see my face as painted with a sharpie  

And see me as your dolly

Because I’m not real I’m just your pretty plastic body!

Ready to play whenever you demand Harvey.

Your ugly plastic words fall upon deaf plastic ears- but sure it’s a party!  

Underneath I scream and fight to stay sturdy.

I am not your dolly!

I am not just your pretty plastic body!



And I would not ‘look so pretty wearing this red lipstick with my lips wrapped around your dick,’ Harvey.
Brayden Allen Aug 21
The first time I kissed someone I wasn’t held
It felt more like a grab
The first time a man layed me down
He pushed me down
The first time I said no
I was ignored
The second time I said no
I was ignored
The third
Fourth
Fifth
Sixth
The first time I told someone
They told me to stop being over dramatic
She said that I was crushing on him for a month
That I got what I wanted
That I should be happy
When I tried to be okay with him
With her
With the whole situation
I tried
And we were alone once again
And yes there was alcohol
And yes I did say yes
And yes I did change my mine
And no I didnt say no
I would think the act of
              S
H
         A
                            K
                   I
      N
                                    G
Would say enough
Nothing changed
From the first time
Except now when I tell people
I’m labeled a tease
The first time I told my therapist
She said I needed to work on using my words and quickly changed topics
The first time I told my best friend
She held me
And told me she was sorry
And for the first time
I felt safe again
But I now know safety is
An illusion
Because I will always
Feel his hands
Grabbing me
As if he’s holding onto to
His own safety
After all if he doesn’t let go
I can’t tell anyone
I moved my bed
To the other side of my room
To help my sleep,
To help me feel
Like that wasn’t where
I was violated.

You would think that in the months
That followed
After I truly understood
What he had done to me,
I would’ve run from the bed
It happened in.

But no.

I spent most of my time there.

I quit my job,
And slipped in and out of sleep
All day, every day.
I shut down.
I spent almost all of my time
In bed,
Letting my life
Pass me by,
Because I couldn’t stand
Participating anymore.

That corner of my room
Across from where I sleep
Still haunts me.

Thinking of what happened there,
Talking
About what happened there,
Makes me want to
Burn the sheets,
And peel off my skin,
Rip off the face he kissed,
And staple my legs closed.
So that no one,
No one,
Can ever do that to me again.

Thinking about what
He did to me
Makes me feel like I have to throw up,
And perhaps that would exile
The fear in my belly,
And banish the memories.

When I was a girl,
I tried very hard
To fill this room up
With love for myself,
I painting the walls
With kind words,
I tried to turn it into
A sanctuary.

He tore down the walls
Of my boundaries,
My privacy,
My safety,
And my dignity.
He stole it from me.

I spent over a year rebuilding
And taking it back,
I was doing fine.
I want you to understand,
I was doing fine.

I bought new sheets,
And new underwear,
I moved my bed,
I got new clothes,
I got new medication,
And a new job,
And someone who loves me.

I was doing fucking fine.

And now it’s all crashing down again.
It’s fresh
All over again.

It hurts all over again,
And hurt isn’t a strong enough word.

I want you to understand
How horrible this is for me,
But I know you won’t.
And she didn’t.

All of that, all of the reopening, all of the damn pain, and she couldn’t even listen.
Maya Aug 11
my body still aches.
when my mother hugs me
i tremble.

i don't like being touched anymore.
it reminds me of your hands
like spiders crawling
under my clothes.

i was so small
and you were so much bigger.
get your voice out of my ears.
saying
'Let it happen.'

in seven years, all the cells in a body
are replaced
which means
in six years there will be no part of me
that you ever touched.

i am counting the days
until then.
i am scared of what you've done to me
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