Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the month “October, 2017”

Ischemic Colitis

You kept quiet about it
stuffed it
so deep down inside of you
it threatened to strangle your innards
ischemic colitis
years of shit you’ve swallowed
backed up
pieces of you dying
as you struggle to keep living
be a good girl
keep quiet
don’t draw any attention to yourself
with what you wear
or say
or drink
or think
they’re stronger than you
they know better than you
they have more money and power than you
so you shrink
and keep shrinking
now so afraid to stand and speak your truth
all you can manage
is to curl into a ball in the corner
and they kick you when you’re down
add insult to injury
why do you dare to be who you are
and live life on your own terms
Susan B and Elizabeth C
rolling over in their graves
because your body is still not your own
and some men still want to govern it
by wielding their dicks over you like a sword
letting you know
you’re still a second class citizen
who needs to bow down
and shut the fuck up
and remain in your corner

The Things We Carry

one day you just stop caring
because it’s easier that way
and it’s not like anyone notices anyway
except for those of us
with hearts like swiss cheese
battle wounded by love
carrying around the PTSD
like a rucksack on your back
nick nack paddywhack
give the bitch a bone
because some men think you want it
even when you say no
screaming it in your head
though it struggles to escape your mouth
because who are you
but a drunk girl looking for attention
and affection from filthy hands
and you always know
you always remember
when they didn’t listen
because the next day
and the day after that
your churning gut reminds you
you can’t look at yourself in the mirror
without wanting to scrape your fingernails
down your face to erase the ugly emanating from inside
and even now
thirty years later
you still don’t like what you see
and think you still deserve only the things
no one else wants

Hell On Earth

They said they’d pray for you

they’re all sending thoughts and prayers

as if spoken or silent words to non-existent deities
could get the blood out from under your fingernails
or the coppery stench of it from your nose

Pray motherfucker pray

while people continue to die
in the name of all that is holy
in the name of psychosis
in the name of wars fought in minds you know nothing about

while you read your book of fairy tales
and give peace to the asshole sitting by you
who will go home and beat his wife after Sunday dinner
because the roast was too dry

Your prayers fall on deaf ears

if there is a god

he’s ignoring you and the entire flock
as everyone here begs for an end to the madness
and destruction and devastation
in this hell on earth

Post Navigation

Sparklebumps: The Mother Version

Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.


i've choked on my words for far too long


It's not the length of life, but the depth.

My musings

This is my mind, it’s not supposed to make sense.

The Phil Factor

Where Sarcasm Gets Drunk and Lets Its Hair Down

Fighting the Myth

Shining the light of truth on delusion

The Haunted Librarian

Researching, investigating, and writing about the paranormal.


You either get it... or you don't.


Inky blackness, a yawning void ~

Eye Will Not Cry

"Eye Fly High"

The Roar Sessions

A weekly series edited by Jena Schwartz

Beth Teliho

Read. Ingest the words. Like little blue pills, they will affect you.

kirilson photography

the stories behind the pictures, and vice versa


Just my thoughts for all to behold

Ann Oblivion Blog

πŸƒ Fully Living The Unfinished Things Of Life Through Writings. πŸƒ

Sweet Spell

A baking and dessert blog.

Daniel Aegan

Writer, Tarot Reader, Designer

Annabel Vita

a little bit of this and a little bit of that

Even at Your Darkest

Seeking Beauty Beyond the Scars

insert witticism

The home of Emma O'Brien

shatteredtalon's Blog

The musings of a scorpion who would have been an eagle


I blog now. I know, I can't believe it either.

The Good Greatsby

Paul Johnson's comedy blog: I didn't get into comedy to be rich or famous. All I've ever wanted was to be loved...by somebody rich and famous.