Crazy is the word a boy uses when he knows he’s in the wrong but is too ashamed to admit it. When he is so caught up in his ego he would rather have the flesh peeled from his bones, bit by bit, than admit the truth.
Crazy is a coward inadvertently letting you know what he is. Crazy is a fools adjective. Crazy is a man who thinks manipulating a woman into submission makes him big and strong. That it is normal and there is no way she will ever rise up to strike him down.
Crazy is you.
I’m so glad we didn’t work out the way you were hoping we would, because I am a woman made of fire. I am the sun herself and I would have burned you up. I deserve more than a boy who does the bare minimum to be labeled a decent human being.
I am glad we didn’t work out the way you wanted us to because choosing you would mean not choosing myself and goddamnit I deserve to choose myself this time.
"you manipulate situations to get what you want from people."
Letting those words be what you choose to believe
when your own flesh and blood
says she was touched by a man
without her permission, is cowardly.
It is the opposite of love,
and I will never forgive you
for refusing to take my side
when I needed you most.
dialogue
Did you cut your hair?
Yes.
It looks nice.
I know.
Did you also know the
polite response would
have been to say thank you?
No.
the polite response
would have been
whatever the fuck
I wanted to say
because your opinion
of my appearance
wasn’t asked for and
doesn’t mean shit.
burning bones and fire tongues
My bones are on fire.
Burning with the passions of
women born before me.
Shaking with a vengeance
meant to tear worlds apart
and build new ones in their place.
I will set this world on fire.
Your miseries will be torched as the men
who refused to step up are razed.
They will wither in the hopeless consequences
of their unforgivable acts,
and I will not rest
until an army of awe-inspiring women
has risen from the ashes and is blessed
to live in a world where no one dares
suggest they swallow their fire tongues.
It’s dusk. A couple of platonic friends stand in a messy canvas one of them has just finished painting.
What do you think?
It’s perfect.
You’re not even looking at it!
They are looking at each other
I don’t have to be.
Why not?
Because
I know you.
I know what
you’re capable of
and I’ve seen
firsthand how
everything you
touch turns
to magic
I want to be magic too
thank you
I’m still in shock from the way you pulled back the second I asked you to.
thank you III
You will always be the one who showed me saying no is not a punishable offense.
soft
I don’t know how to be soft anymore.
How to watch the sunrise
or smell the roses.
I’m accustomed to sunsets
starry nights and endings.
My prayers are offered to the moon
as tears run down my cheeks,
and I am afraid these bones have found comfort
in reckless abandonment and
bathing in the ashes of everything I touch.
because it's not my fault
I want to apologize for the way this trauma has made me fumble with my words and flinch at every touch, but you won’t let me.
the bees
I’m letting a swarm of bees
build their hives in my ears
so I don’t have to hear the daggers
you fling from your tongue
ricochet off the knives in my back.
I ask them to sting me repeatedly
as rent for living in my space
so I don’t have to feel the ache in my soul
as you rearrange your schedule
to make time for someone else,
in a way you were never able to do for me.
I wish I had the words to tell you
this isn’t what loving someone should feel like.
dialogue II
You know, this is usually about the time
a sane person would throw in the towel…
Guess we better thank the Gods
I’m batshit crazy.
women are not objects
My body is building a wall
and I am not allowed to feel things.
In an attempt to forget past traumas
she is asking me to let her be hollow.
Even if it is just for a moment,
her bing would like a break
from the memories ingrained in her flesh.
Letting people in has become an impossible task.
Telling someone how I’m really doing
might as well be rocket science.
My mind won’t let me forget the last time
I told someone I was anything other than “good”.
People seem to think I am an object
something meant only for their enjoyment.
The flesh my soul resides in has all too often
been mistaken for that of a blow-up sex doll
and I am growing tired of this sacrilege.
you don't matter anymore
It’s exhausting,
letting you be my only source
of inspiration.
Everything I write is about you
or the things you did to me.
I’m sick of it.
This is the end.
From now on,
I only write about the sun and stars.
siren song
They fail to realize that my skin is a thunderstorm.
There is an ocean at her hips,
and the memories of lost souls
who have dirtied her shores
will soon be washed away.
Those who were daft enough to think
they could make an entire ocean their own,
will drown in the very thing they tried to conquer.
Their breath will be silenced and their lungs filled
with the salt they emptied into her as their bodies
are ground to dust by the very waves
they had the audacity to brag about commanding.
if my body can't be mine, maybe it can be yours
Drag your nails across my back.
Make me bleed out all the ways
those before you left me gutted
when the went without a sound.
Tear away the tattoos on my skin
and kiss the bruises,
making them your own.
Do you know what hurts worse than being told you resemble your father?
Having someone say they love you as they rearrange your bones to force themselves inside you.
soft II
I don’t know how to be soft anymore.
How to look at art or
admire anything other than
burning buildings.
Only shadows bring me comfort
though, even that, is fleeting.
and self control is a thing of the past.
Coffee is saved for 11 pm
self care mistaken for avoidance.
I am letting myself rot
and it is the best decision ever made.
never
It’s not your fault.
I never want you to feel this way again.
You think too much. You feel too deeply
That is precisely my calling in this life.
To notice the little things you don’t,
appreciate the beauty you refuse to see,
and give life to all the dead parts;
that aching in my chest.
So that others may know
they are not alone in this maze of hurt.
So that they may hold my hand
whenever comfort is needed
i am
Angel wings made of clouds
Golden dragons etched into snow white skin
Scorpions resting in palms
Crowns of flowers dripping amber
and eyes made of the burning embers
that fall away from tongues set ablaze.
is this the only way to live?
I’m angry with you for never allowing my body to fully be mine.
You gave me life and forbid me from making it my own.
The four walls housing my soul belong to your God.
This is the price I pay for the blessings he’s poured upon you.
These are the shackles I wear to make you feel better about yourself.
Soon I will belong to my husband.
I will bear his children and support him emotionally
because it is only fair and he is doing me a favor.
It’s as if nobody cares what I want to do
with my own skin and bones.
Your mouths say one thing but your actions say another.
find someone who loves you
The worst thing about abusers is they aren’t always abusive. There are enough good days to balance out the bad and it’s almost too easy to feel guilty for focusing on the things that require improving, or speaking up for what you need. You’re not crazy for wanting more and you aren’t ungrateful for making your needs met. If a relationship is not mutually beneficial, it is not the one for you. Find someone who will make a continuous effort to give you everything you deserve without making it seem like a burden.
america
Fuck
you and your ugly soul.
Hands stained black
with the ashes of witches burned
mouths dusted with scorching blisters
hideous proof of how you tried
to ravage us still
after setting our bodies aflame.
Backs scarred with lashes
intended for someone else
minds poisoned by the screams
of those you thought could be controlled.
Bones paralyzed by the thing that sets us free.
You will not live to regret
this mess you’ve made.
Please
keep your thieving hands
and stolen lands,
we do not want them anymore.
la fin
You’ve always been right there
armed with 150 possible solutions
to whatever the problem may be.
It’s a shame you’ve never thought
to stop and ask what’s wrong.
I stopped talking when you
stopped pretending to listen.
somewhere great
My heart is almost whole again and
I’m not sure where to go from here.
"i'm sorry" will never be enough
It is not my place to speak up about the atrocities you are forced to endure on a daily basis.
So I will sit here quietly as you give a voice to all the ways my culture has mangled yours.
I will stand beside you in the fight for rights and human decencies that should have been yours from the very beginning.
I will hold you up if your legs give out,
be a shoulder to cry on if you need a break, and I will lend a fist if it ever becomes too much for you to bear.
koan
I know I’ll miss you when you’re gone
I miss the person you claim to be.
The one who stands by my side
and makes bad times better.
You’re not who you say you are
I think leaving will make me feel better.
it should not be disarming
The way you seem to be more interested
in getting to know me than having sex.
How you never say it was my fault.
That you still treat me the same.
When you are gentle with me.
hellraiser. trailblazer.
Suppose I’m not supposed to let go of this.
Suppose I’m meant
to let the memory of what happened
keep me awake at night because it is
the light that will help
guide others through the darkness.
Suppose this was never about me,
but the women
I will raise from within their shadows
and the change I will incite
with all these fires I am starting.
You are a good one.
There is not a doubt in my mind.
249
America the great?
No.
America the cis-gendered able-bodied
white man with a superiority complex
Land of the free?
No.
Land of those who live in a constant state of fear
and have been emotionally manipulated into believing
these conditions are something to be grateful for.
Home of the brave?
No.
Home of the children we keep in cages.
Home of the children constantly being shot.
Home of the children bred to be pawns in wars
that have long since been over and were never ours to begin with
is it still rape if...
If you are not continuously saying yes, you are saying no.
Consent can always be revoked.
unwanted martyr
Here is a man who would willingly
take a bullet for the woman he loves.
And over there is the woman
who would never ask him to
because she does not want the burden
of that guilt resting on her shoulders
it was never about you
Do you think I pulled the skin off my body in private
so you would not have to watch?
Do you think I wrapped myself up in bandages
and dressed these wounds on my own so you
wouldn’t have to look at the wreckage he left behind?
Do you think I up and left without saying a word
because you had been a good friend?
Are you really that daft?
parent (N.)
I. A person who hides the truth from you under the guise of protection
II. Someone who pretends to be perfect and the end-all-be-all only to one day be revealed as anything but
as pathetic as it may sound
I’m letting myself believe
that you are “the one”
because right now
it is the only thing
holding me together
I want this to last forever but
nobody I love ever outlives me
survivors guilt
it should have been me
Anyone who actually gives a damn about your well being won’t ask you not to report your abuser.
savages III
We remember the ways you’ve tried to make us afraid of you, the ways you thought you could keep us down. We have been keeping track of all the times you hurt us, sometimes leaving tally marks on our skin as proof. We are figuring out the tricks you think are okay to keep playing on us. We are listening to each other’s stories, picking each other up, bandi
ng together, and coming for you.