"rohypnol" poems
after Sanam Sheriff.
In this dream, the statistic isn’t 1 in 3 because there is no statistic. There is no **** whistle swaying from our necks. No Rohypnol swimming in our drinks. There is no need for colour-changing nail polish to tell us that the stranger we haven’t seen or the friend that we have is trying to take advantage of us in the alley behind the club. Or our cars in the grocery store parking lot. Or our bedrooms as our mothers think they have just gone to the bathroom. In this dream, we have no need to invent a word such as **** No need to be afraid of who’s in the dark. No need to be afraid for our daughters. No need to panic every time a man raises his voice. Every time a man raises his hand. Every time a man raises his belt buckle. In this dream, there is no more catcall, no ass-grab, no staring so hard it feels like his eyes have already touched us in places we never consented to. In this dream, consent is part of the foreplay. In this dream, we do ask for it. In this dream, they don’t touch us otherwise.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 4:48 PM UTC
harbour abyss
shallow dwell our shotgun cells
open wide
tastes like magnesium
swallow now
magnesium magnesium
fall down you barrow folds
why are all the snails out?
you haven't heard?
it's been forty weeks of rain
it's been forty years of rain
crush them if you see them-
don't you know we're in a bubble economy?
the churches crumble
cats lie bored in parking lots
surrounded by nothing
pat pat
the summer heat
dye your bones
in rohypnol veils
empty into cartridges
shoot up
sky burial
float the concentric
lace of vultures
do you ever pantomime being hurt,
just to hide your hurting?
hahahahaa,
no
this ******* heat
pavement swells
dig up the dirt
relay the dirt
reseal over spit your teeth
tap tap from the mountaintop
into the ocean
spend the days watching
kids stamp on the ants
and then cry as they learn what it is to know death
mothers stare on with tired eyes
the summer heat
the summer heat
who took all the rain?
-sosososo,
there's this game,
this game, you see
you
make a jigsaw
but replace every odd or so tile,
with an image of your own design
after a few tries,
the whole thing becomes entirely incomprehensible,
but at least it's yours
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 7:22 PM UTC
"I hate you more when I'm drunk" you said
Everything about me makes you angry
I still sit on my hands and try not to say anything unless spoken too
"No one else will deal with you, **** stop crying, I don't want people seeing my woman with tear stains."
So I wouldn't cry in front of you anymore
Each night I'd fall asleep helpless to my meal sized portion of pills
Anti-anxiety, antidepressant, sedative, pain killer, sleeping aid
"You're just like your Mother, all messed up"
I'm so ******* tolerant and you're so ******* disturbed
At least my Mother, didn't **** my married Father for his money
Sorry I just told everyone that
"Why can't you be more like...
Claire? Caitlin? Maia? Anna?"
I don't want to be like them
but if I was, you'd probably actually love me or at least stop
smacking me hard enough to make my jaw ache for hours
Three days before you put me in the hospital,
by the way I tested positive for Rohypnol
You gave me a ring, solid gold and diamonds
that night you weren't worried about my stomach being pumped
but,
"She better be wearing that ring, better not lose it in the hospital"
I flushed your $15,000 guilt gift down a hospital toilet.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
peek a boo
what do you see?
a man
a woman
corruption
vulnerability
peek a boo
what do you see?
a knife
rohypnol
no escape
don't tell a soul
peek a boo
what do you see?
a man
a woman
conviction - none
too bad that you couldn't run
peek a boo
what do you see?
a woman
a man
not a dream
his favourite crime scene
Sep 18, 2021
Sep 18, 2021 at 3:32 AM UTC
He is immune to things that could shake him
for years and years
like the rohypnol, cotton bleach, light beam
more tears and tears
been shed upon the Christ's myth
and nothing could indulge in more width.
He can never lie in the bunk
throughout the summer, forever
a thousand of ships have allegedly sunk
into the oblivion, since we gather
in the acrimonious way in withholding
the frivolous conviction that we refused.
He missed thousands of roses, lilies, daisies
He stepped on it, he couldn't resist
when they arrived to announce the capture from the harem
he departed just to leave a terrifying mark all over them.
He dragged his soul through the abandoned street
street of hope and lie that forget to greet
tend to set ablaze any shape of territory
Inferno's fault is that it never told us the whole story.
He is now dancing alone on the sacred mountain
savoring the peace that he thought he could never obtain
horrendous mistake when they set him apart to be blamed
even Abraham made up something to take everyone's sight off the frame.
They shirk their responsibilities resulting in the furor
he wished that he can never be bothered anymore
for John, Donald, Henry are passersby in waiting
and the Sun now, seems to be brighter and deafening.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 3:36 AM UTC