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my poetry

this is some of the poetry i have written over the past year, as i have begun to accept what happened to me. some of it is angry, some sad, some wistful, some regretful. some of the poems i regard as beautiful, some of them as terrible, and some of them as both at once. they are in chronological order, from the oldest to the most recent. i wanted to share them here because i feel like if i can do this, then i will be one step closer to free.


all my life things have become more than they are
mountains transformed to jagged peaks
like knives that slice the soul
true nothing came of a mere molehill
or anthill as it were
crawling with picayune ants
true it all meant something to someone
but the lies meant nothing to me
shields that took the battering of the world
a huge shield emblazoned with the word "untruth"
until, soaked in blood
the untruth became visible
and it was then that i knew
that the one dirty unadulterated truth
was the thing that would stick in my throat
as i attempt to explain
my irrational fear


trudging southward
i meander softly through the mountains of remembrance
once when i was younger and more open
i told her of it
she opened my eyes without knowing
when she queried my involving dirtiness
of the spirit, i suppose, and the palm of my hand
and once when i was younger and less like an evening rose
i told my mother of my pain
she put me in a bath
she had no idea
and i no recollection until perhaps the age of eight
when i knew a robbery had taken place
the remainder of me

think about what you did

i can't tell
if i would ever want to see you again
would i rather face you and be glorious
or turn away from my shame and hide from the stain
i know i must have my own scent
i must
because if it isn't mine it's yours
i can't say you're a bastard
as far as i know your parents were united in matrimony
before from her loins you sprang
like a worm
like a mindless evil little ugly stupid wicked worm
do you know what you did to me
sure i built myself a fašade
of pure whiteness and gardenia blossoms and fluttering butterflies
underneath it all do you know what i am
a soiled dirty embarrassed former princess
a liar
a cheating freakish confused wannabe empress
you made me a liar
and it's safe for me to blame you
you think i would dare to blame you
when you had me backed up in a corner
sniveling aching smothered
while your tongue like a snake played games with me
you knew better
and you knew worse and you did worse to me
do you know what it's like being unable to touch a man
without feeling panicked
do you know what it's like seeing shadows everywhere
and expecting them to jump out and murder you
kill you
stab right into your fucking soul
you stabbed me
sliced me
hid me away like your own possession
and then after you'd plundered and sucked all you could get
you flung my empty shell away
i can't say you're a fucker
because i don't remember everything you did
was it a game to you
did you think it was funny
pinning me down and stopping my breath with your hot mouth
slimy slithering oozing awful black rotting - fuck!
you made this of me
i am your masterpiece
your broken dollbaby
who could have been more if you hadn't worn me out
let me go!
leave me alone
and let an embrace mean more than for him to
get his hand up my shirt
or his tongue between my quivering lips
or anything else like that
do you remember things about me
remember how you forced me to touch you
i didn't want to!
i can't cry anymore
and it's your fault
it's you
and i hate you!
you sick vile vomitous disgusting thing!
if it makes you feel powerful again
maybe think about me
think and know that i can't cry now
think and know that i'm not curling up in anybody's arms
nobody wants to hear shit like this
they want a sugar-coated version of my life
not stories about you bruising me in my playhouse
my daddy built that playhouse for me
and you invaded it
i built myself a teenage seventh-grade romance
and you invaded it
i had a life
and you invaded it
i had a childhood a grace a purity a beauty
and yes a blamelessness
and you stole it
i hope you die alone and as scared as you've made me


we shared a letter and that is all
never thought i'd know another who began like me
but he ended with a different sound than my name
and god he had ugly hands
or at least that's what i remember
in all the times i've moved my bed
it hasn't faced west like it did then
who can blame me for it
then again i guess who can blame him
seeing as i've never really said much of it all
but hey i remember
i suppose it's all forgiven now that eleven years
have ticked by
moving so slow i thought i'd never get here
i guess the only thing to do is remain honest
maybe find someone to trust
then again maybe not
but hey even though it's all gone by and bygones
can you blame me for when i'm out looking
making sure he has beautiful hands


should i go back to when it was
remember my silent year
my serpent dreams
the shelter of those trees
the light through the lattice on that angry face
and i was weary
there were his hands on my throat
his knee in my belly
those dirty kisses planted roughly on na´ve lips
can my deer eyes transmit the longing
in the underground poetry den
i don't really want to blame me
in the pit of my stomach i tell myself not to
but i guess i just shouldn't think
because aside from me, who is there to blame


my boots leave bloody tracks on asphalt
as i run
against the rules


there was once a little girl
who slept beside me in the darkness of childhood
my twin my other half
there within arm's reach
sleeping with her dark curls spread like a fan
around her velveteen face
i did not know her but she knew me
and while my face grew freckled beneath the sun
hers stayed pure and white and pale as winter's dawn
she clasped hands with me
led me through the cosmos
their lavender and milky petals waving like tiny hands
we evaded him for a time
until he trapped us in our sanctuary
the little bed in which we slept and teethed
polluted by his presence
he was unconscious when it came to her
but she knew him and his intentions
she wept and shrieked and pounded him with useless fists
until he went away and we lie numb
i did not grieve she did
and we were still together
when he came back again again again
she faded more each time
until when i moved away she stood by him
nearly transparent
ripped from my grasp and held in his
and i never saw her more
and i know she's gone

tribute to the hookers in the park

one day things went bad
and as her broken body fell into the gutter
the world passed by
and did not see her
and she was at last alone

purity II

i look for her in crowds sometimes
and find her face
she smiles that precious smile, with her milk-teeth
and says, "hey,
i know you"
and i never can stop long enough to talk
or hold her hand
or say, "i'm sorry i let him take you away,"
we were supposed to be sisters
and now all around me people are whole
and i'm the only puzzle with a missing piece
because i never can stop long enough to talk


being touched as a little girl
sheltered silenced momentarily alone
departing forgetting
shattering the looking glass of purity
unknowing undead wishing for peace
walk walk little child
swearing loudly at the stars
remembering his hands so unlike friendliness
daddy can't protect me from the neighbor boy
and his clawing hands
leaving me in the grimy truth of violation
cruel acts upon innocent pale unscarred body
help me daddy
why didn't anyone help me?

is this what i've been?

there is nothing left to save me
save her
a person of bruises lies and accusations
unrequited unrealistic love
false dreams and forgotten secrets
ticket stubs and desperation
clinging to unfamiliar arms and faces
believing in nothing but her masks
her half-illuminated fears
hollow remembrances
the things she hides that are who she is
the wisdom brilliance tears
sensuous nature
covered over with crystalized sugar
and bitter anecdotes injected with exaggeration
and in her face i wonder where i come in


my old cruel lover
back again
to bite my fingers


here we are
pushing august's boundaries
she was warm and sweaty
she wanted what she got
calendar pages turning
to expose her blue sky breasts
to a covetous sun
and the world sits quiet
beneath her hair
august can't cry
and if she does everyone's surprised
the big round tears coarse her cheeks
and fall to the ground
humid weeping at calendar's betrayal
holding herself up but barely
fading slowly into september's arms
she leaves in tears
and people look up to say,
"why's it raining?
this is supposed to be august..."

flashback (or lack thereof)

tin cup and cigarettes
his back my hands
(there was this man...)
i am warm, cold at the core
(when i was little)
i shake
he is almost asleep
(and i guess he liked little girls)
"i said he liked little girls,"
"i'm sorry."
"okay." (okay.)


there is a boy on top of me
he has blue eyes or are they green
and am i falling asleep
or am i freaking out
i can't tell
he's warm or is it me
is it lust
or am i feverish
i don't know
those are his hands or are they someone else's
and am i shaking from cold
or is it fear
i've lost touch
there is a boy on top of me


all i have left