Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the tag “domestic violence”

Parchment

how long until my skin

becomes paper

thin as the crepe de chine

abandoned in the back of your closet

full of moth holes

forgotten after Senior Prom ’65

where once there was buoyancy

and the ability to reproduce

now the organism

withers and dies

starving

void of the nourishment

of human touch

if only you could

wrap it up in tissue

and send it to me special delivery

the words

‘handle with care’

stamped upon my battered flesh (instead of the box it arrives in)

and whispered in my brain

ad nauseam

like a broken record

daring you to heal

what was long since destroyed

by angry hands

 

 

 

 

 

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Elimination

It was the smell of old beer exhaled from lungs passing across a dip of Skoal that brought it all back. . .

hands tightening around my throat

threatening to stop the flow of precious air

knowing that he thought so little of me

that he didn’t care whether I lived or died

and that if he killed me he would feel no remorse

because he would believe

until his last breath

permeated with the smell of Bud Light and chew

that I deserved it

 

Whitewash

It all comes back to black

the color of rot and death

and a murder of crows

and of my insides

since I came across you

I want so much to shed the cloak of it

and experience other colors again

like red

the red of your blood

flowing from your nose

as my fist connects with it

gushing from your head

as the perfectly timed swing of my bat unites with your thick skull

dropping a trail from your bottom lip

as the back of my hand meets your lying mouth

but still

the red cannot compete with the black

so I wait for a source of light

to wash over me

and dilute it

and make it gray

Split Lips

the salt from my tears stings the cut on my lip

I push my tongue against it to feel the sting again

drag my teeth across it

taste the coppery tang from the blood

my mouth waters and I turn my head and spit

I wonder what brought me to this point in my life

it’s not the first time

but it’s definitely the last time

you’ll lay your hands on me motherfucker

so I commit it to memory

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Lies Within Us

What is the flaw within us

that doesn’t believe we are good enough

for good love

Why is it easier to accept

the love

which isn’t really love

but merely sickness masquerading

We give them the benefit of the doubt

because we believe

we can see the possibilities inside them

of which there are none

and even if there were potential

it’s not up to us to nurture them

Brother of mine

do not make the same mistakes I have made

it will not get better

but only worse every time

until it will culminate

into something she can’t take back

Run away from her little brother

as fast as you can

as far as you can

It may be lonely for awhile

but not as lonely as a tomb

 

 

 

The Honeymoon Phase

Don’t do it, I want to tell her.  Don’t go back to him.

But it’s too late.  She’s with him again, and she’s got all the same old excuses for being with him.

I’m keeping it casual.

He’s different now, not like he was before.

So you forgot, I guess.

You forgot all the nasty things he called you.

You forgot how he made you feel like a piece of shit by all the things he said, and all the things he did.

You forgot all the insecurity and the tears and the feelings of insanity.

You forgot how he didn’t put you first.  Hell, he didn’t even put you second.

You forgot how your son said he was scared of him. How your son knew that this guy didn’t make you happy.

But you went back anyway.

I suppose you went back for all the same reasons all of us go back–because you can’t get those old tapes to stop playing in your head, you can’t get past the fear of being alone, you can’t put yourself first, let alone your son.

I want to tell you you’ll regret it.  I want to scream “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE GO BACK TO THAT PIECE OF SHIT AND CHOOSE HIM OVER YOUR KID!”.

But I don’t.  I stay quiet.  There’s nothing I can do even though I can see how this all will play out, and I don’t even need a crystal ball.  You will have to learn on your own, because it’s something which can’t be taught.

I had to be my own teacher, but I eventually learned.

I have been you.

And you are now me.

 

No Escape

The knowledge of it was too much

the pain and the shame it carried with it was too much

and it was like you didn’t even care

you didn’t care because you were too much too

it was all more than I wanted to deal with

drunk

fed up

I drained the last drink from the beer bottle

and I smashed it against the sink

you did nothing

as I stood there and began cutting

with that sharp piece of brown glass

I didn’t so much want an end

to my life

as I did to the knowledge

and the pain and the shame

cut

slice the skin and make me feel

some other type of pain

the physical more bearable than the emotional

the blood ran down my hand before you noticed

there was no comfort to be found in you

since I only wanted release from you too

I will never escape what you did

no matter how much I slice off

 

Battle Wounds

I was never good at walking away

feet dragging

legs leaden

so I push. . .

barrages of gunfire from the arsenal

which is my wounded soul

you stand and take it all like a soldier

I wonder where your armor has come from

and how you dodge my bullets

Why do you stay?

What makes you dig in

and establish a bunker which can’t be penetrated by my ammunition?

You should retreat

run far away from my enemy lines

and the grenades I lob to keep you at a distance

But you don’t.

You stay strong through the fire fight

never once raising the white flag of surrender

Always my hero

setting me free from this prisoner of war camp I’ve constructed for myself

 

 

 

 

 

Warning Labels

warning

 

 

I lived in a walled fortress most of the time. . . with a moat. . .and a dragon.  But no knights.  My life doesn’t currently have, and has never had a knight, or a true partner.  Mind you, I know knights don’t exist in anyone’s world except Walt Disney’s, and truth be told, after the shit relationships I’ve subjected myself to, I should probably come with a warning label.

If any man ever happens to express interest in me again, here is what I would want him to read on my label:

  1. I don’t trust you. Most likely I will probably never fully trust you. If I come to trust you, it will be because you’ve backed up your words by deeds.
  2. Don’t ever think scaring me is funny.  It’s a trigger for me, and you might possibly be met with a slap to your face or a knee to the balls because I will feel as if I need to defend myself.
  3.  No yelling. EVER. Yelling sets off an immediate panic attack in me, and then when the yelling is done, I immediately dissolve into a puddle of tears.
  4. PTSD.  I have it, though I hate to admit it.  There’s no shame in having it, but I constantly try to minimize the situations I was in and deny that I have it.  It will rear its ugly head, and you will need to love me through it, or you will need to leave.
  5. Touch.  I will need to sense your presence before you touch me, or I will be startled, even if you’ve never put your hands on me in anger. I can be a very affectionate person, but it will take a little time.
  6. Jealousy.  Don’t get psycho jealous with me, because I’ve been there and I won’t do that again.  It is possible I might experience some jealousy and read something into situations which are harmless because I’ve been cheated on numerous times and lied to too many times to count.  See #1 for further clarification.
  7. Guilt.  Because I’ve been told numerous times that everything that goes bad in an asshole’s life is my fault, I still have a hard time believing that it isn’t, so I will always feel like shit is my fault.  I will always assume worst case scenario in every situation and will prepare myself for the blame, so don’t be an asshat–you own what’s yours, and I will own what’s mine, and we will forgive each other and move on.

 

I think this about covers the basics.  If you’re still here and have an interest in understanding more about me, then maybe you give a shit and you’re interested in sticking around.  If not, that’s cool too, and I get it.  The rollercoaster isn’t for everyone.

 

 

The Theory of Disease

apathy has settled in my heart

and in my bones

 

like a rare form of cancer

it eats at every cell of my being

 

it burrows into my marrow

consuming all I believed to be good

 

about you

about me

about the world

 

indifference is a sheath for my feelings

numbing any twinges of caring

but never halting the progression of my sickness

 

it will eat me up from the inside and leave nothing

but a shell

 

it was you

and you

and you

and even you

who gave me this disease

who left me with these symptoms

 

indicative of a greater malady

 

which left untreated

can bring about

the downfall of society

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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