Calmly I offer you
pieces of my heart,
tenderly chosen-
which you accept
with a smile
then toss away,
crumpled.
Just another piece
of unwanted garbage-
for which you spare
no thought.
Tag Archive: incest
I gave one sharp cry when I died. You didn’t even notice. You were so busy basking in your glory that I sank below notice even a you drove the knife home. When you cleaved my soul in two I wanted to scream. I wanted my cry to pierce you to your heart and shatter your blessed reality. How nice it would have been to see the horror of your deed marked plainly on your face for all to se as I writhed beneath you in my throes of death. You in your stupor probably mistook my cry for one of pleasure. Filthy creature that you are, so drunk on the exhiliration of conquring me, you never noticed the look of pity. I pity you. Even in my death, even in my agony I pittied you. To the very marrow of my bone I felt sorry for you. What could have driven you to these extreme troughs of misery? You sank into the abyss of mankind and you shall never again rise to the surface. I am sorry for you because even in your act of conquer, Thanatos found you. He found you and instead of taking your life, he took your family, he took your job, he took your respect, he took your calling and left you naked and begging for his skeletal embrace. He will not take your soul. It is a neat little hell you have created for your-self, is it not? You will die in hell as you have lived…
I gave one sharp cry when I died. That cry will echo through your soul forever.
It is the oldest dance in existence. Hunter and prey. As I walk into your room I recognize the rhythm as the familiar tune blares into my brain.
I am not alarmed. I am not afraid of you. I have come to expect this from you. I love only for one purpose, to fuel your desire, to sate your appetite for dominance. I am meek. I am submissive.
You are a good man, as they all have been and I already have forgiven you for the pain you are about to inflict on me. It’s ok. It’s fine. I know you’ll be gentle if I don’t struggle so I sit here in my self-loathing and let you torment me.
People say we reap what we sow. What seeds have I sewn to reap this harvest of pain and fear? I listen to your words and hear their meaning. I do not despise you, I cannot. you are a good man.
Is it my fault because I am beautiful? Do I pursue beauty because on some subliminal level I desire this maltreatment? Do I feel that I deserve this?
You are a good man. I do not blame you for your torment. You are a good man so it must be me who is wrong. I am the bad one. I am wrong. You are a good man. People look up to you and respect you. you give guidance to them. They depend on you to direct them. You are a good man. My punishment must be just. This is what I am here for here.
Am I wrong because I love you? Am I bad because in spite of your treatment I admire and obey you. Obedience is better than sacrifice. What have I sacrificed in the name of obedience? Where is the line drawn between obedience to a good man and sacrifice of one’s self?
How important is innocence? It encompasses our lives and leads us to misery. The pursuit of wisdom is good… then why does wisdom destroy innocence?
You are a good man…
I will spare only one tear for you. I dare not open the floodgates of my emotion lest the onslaught destroy me in a vortex of fear and self-loathing. You are naught but a ghost. I killed you that day. I watched you die. In desperation, I drove the knife home and I watched you writhe in agony with a bitter smile on my face. I strove to destroy you, dear child…but not without reason. I destroyed you to save you, that perhaps some small remnant of the girl you were could survive, pristine.
I was a fool to attempt this. I will never escape you. You are soiled and ugly. You are a protector of wrong, defender of evil. You cause hurt to come upon others. You have no pity. Stupid child. Pitiful creature. To know you is to loathe you. To despise your very existence. Whore that you are, finding joy in your torture, enlisting the pity of others to aid in your healing. You will never be free. You live only to suffer, die only to rot.
I did not bury you that day. I torment myself with the knowledge of my deed. My failure to eradicate you will haunt me forever. You are the ghost that haunts my dreams. You are the demon who terrorizes my waking hours. You are my hell, my prison I have created and I cannot break free. I hate you, unclean thing that you are. I am locked in here with you-my tormentor.
I shed only one tear for you. You will spend my whole life dyeing. I spare only one tear for you because you will rape my soul forever. You will rape my soul forever.
I was taking a shower today and staring at the shower head thinking about the time we had to change it. Then I suddenly remembered that there was a huge gaping hole on the other side of the wall. Changing this shower head was supposed to be simple… just unscrew the old one then screw the new one in place. Like most things in life it got complicated quickly. After trial and error we had to cut a large access hole into wall in the adjoining room to repair the problem. These repairs were taking place at about 9pm on a Sunday which meant we didn’t have much time to get the job properly done before we had to give up on it for the night and just rig it up and go to bed. Well now a month has passed and I had managed to completely forget that this huge hole existed. As long as the shower functioned properly and I didn’t have to look at the hole it was not a part of my reality. This became a metaphor for my life… I find that as long as I am functioning on a day to day level – as long as I can go to work, pay my bills, put dinner on the table, clean my kitchen, spend time with my husband – as long as I can do these things I fool myself into thinking that the gaping hole in my chest doesn’t exist. Then something horrible happens… something wonderful… my husband looks at me and says, “You don’t have to pretend here.” And I am suddenly aware of this wound. I feel it and allow myself to be broken for a moment. Just that small reminder that I am seen, that I don’t have to hide… It’s painful and wonderful at the same time. I usually don’t allow myself to feel this pain. I just gloss over it and pretend to be ok, to be happy. Something amazing happens in the middle of it all, though… Through the safe release of this pain… I find that under it I really am happy… that I really do believe everything will be ok eventually and I don’t have to rush through this healing process… I can give myself permission to be. There is so much grace in that realization.
Now that I am aware…now that I am awake, I am trying not to be hyper-aware of everything I do I am trying not to over-analyze my thoughts and actions. I want to be alive in my world, not just drifting slowly through it, but I also want to relax and enjoy the journey. I want to drink in life and stop being a passive character in my own life story. I want to be able to recognize and admit to a lifetime of abuse without drowning in this grief. I want to realize my own self-worth without becoming self-involved. I want to admit that I need to do things for me that make me happy without alienating the people I love. I want to give myself permission to be happy without seeking the approval of others. I want to be comfortable in my own skin. I want to stop hiding behind the “everything is ok” mentality when things are so obviously broken. I want to be able to admit to this pain that threatens to overwhelm me without making the people around me uncomfortable. I am so tired. So afraid. So broken. I am ready to shake off this cloak and lie in the sun. I am ready… just so afraid…
There’s a song by Blue October that just says it better than I can today…. apart from the line about forgiveness, as I believe forgiveness awaits us if we only ask… enjoy. Click to see it on youtube.
“Razorblade”
In the day by day collision
Called the art of growing up
There’s an innocence we look for in the stars
To be taken back to younger days
When there was no giving up
On the people we held closest to our hearts
Yeah it is you that I remember in that glowing
It is you that took my first away from me
It is you I set my standards to… to every walk of life
I haven’t met another you since you were with me.
[Chorus]
A brief bout with a razorblade cut me
I freaked out, thinking people didn’t love me
I watched closely as the you I knew forgot me
In letting go, I am so proud of what I’ve done
In a way, I failed religion
I spit the wine from mouth to cup
And I reached for something more than just your God
Uncle, you spared not your children
And while your praying hands are up
There’s no forgiveness for you! You sick fuck!
It is you that I remember in their bedroom
It is you that took their first away from them
It is you they set their standards to
You wounded them for life
You were a preacher and suppose to be above men
Sing with me
[Chorus]
A brief bout with a razorblade cut me
I freaked out, thinking people didn’t love me
I watched closely as the you I knew forgot me
In letting go, I am so proud of what I’ve done
My grandmother is fiercely loyal to her favorite son. For reasons no one really knows she worships the ground he walks on. It is not unlike a cult, with Eddie the proclaimed prophet or savior. I will never understand where this unhealthy devotion comes from. Growing up in this family of 8 children, Eddie was the one who could do no wrong. He molested some and possibly all of his 5 sisters. When they came and told their mother, she told all of the children to keep it a secret and not tell their father. She was worried that if her husband found out he would kick Eddie out of the house. She was more willing to sacrifice all 5 of her daughters to this man than to save her daughters and put him away where he belonged.
Later, after the children grew up and some had girls of their own, the entire family gladly left their daughters alone with this man knowing full well what he was capable of. It was more important to save this “good man” this “man of God” than to be sure their children were safe. It was more important to preserve a reputation than any of the girl’s innocence. We were all disposable. Just something to be sacrificed at the Altar of Eddie.
If I live to be a hundred years old, I will never know where all of the contempt came from. Why were the girls in my family so despised? Why were we so worthless to so many people? Why were our lives not more important than the reputation and freedom of one man? Why was it ok for Eddie to molest and rape us?
I know it’s impossible to ever get answers to these questions, but I long to understand. There’s a part of me that believes if I could just understand this, my life would suddenly make sence. I know this is pure fantasy and will never happen, but I just long to categorize these experiences and make them fit into some form of sanity. I want to have simple explanations, even if they are painful ones. Instead I am stuck with this horrible feeling of worthless-ness. Of being a disposable object… a thing of contempt. I feel like I must be truly broken for an entire family to want to toss me to a monster, then protect the monster.
I know one day I will be beyond this in my healing and the quest for answers will not matter so much. I know that one day I will learn to accept that my family is just profoundly broken and twisted and wrong and completely unaware of what love actually is or what it means. But between now and then I have this gaping hole in my heart and a pain that permeates all I touch and a sadness that lingers behind my smile.
An unfathomable sadness
has settled over me
blanket-like.
Its pain sears my chest
like a hot knife,
scarring.
I shrink away from words
and faces – I shrink
to you…
You-awaiting me beyond shadows
waiting in secret
my love.
In need of somewhere to settle
my restless emotions
ceaselessly search.
Longing for understanding
I cry out
(in despair)
I cry out silently and hear
my fears echoing
about me.
In an agonizing torment
I realize I am
alone.
Why this sad loneliness
this dull ache
these tears?
I should rejoice in your love –
instead I weep
I weep.
Long ago, when I lay at your feet and whimpered beneath your touch I dared to dream of freedom. Never then did the thought of vengeance enter my mind. Your breath in my face tasted like death and the touch of your skin was beyond pain. The smell of you engulfed me, sickened, revolted me, and still I lived on. You are the disease that threatened to destroy me, but I am stronger than you … and wiser. I even smiled when you looked at me, showed you my best side. I knew it was pointless to dream, but dream I did. Daily I dreamed of freedom. Now I taste the clean air and feel the sun kiss my skin. The wind caresses my body and plays with my hair. I breathe in the scent of flowers and grass. I pity you now, in your dark cell. Now that I am free, freedom has become your dream. loneliness is your nightmare. The heavens no longer kiss you, the wind no longer loves you. You will never hear the trees whisper your name in adoration and flowers do not wear perfume for you. I am no longer the dog at your feet, but the woman who stands proud. Never again will I cow down beneath your filthy boot. You watch me walk in the sunshine now and remember me as you crouch in your shadowed pit.
captivatingbitter 