anger

Fury

Faint at first the drums beat, then louder. 
I have been unchained, unleashed. 
My cell has been opened. 
  
I feel the rhythm beating within my chamber. 
The furnace glows red and blood like steel boils. 
Burning veins from within . 
  
Outside vultures. 
Circling, dancing in the sky on tattered wings. 
Spitting venom. 
Their shadows block out the Sun. 
   
In darkness I stand alone. 
The drums beat their monotone    
  
The flame burns violently. 
Fed by pain, my inferno. 
It’s heat burns the darkness away. 
Pain retreats. 
  
 I surrender myself. 
With hatred engulfed I roam, 
Incinerating the beasts, ripping out their tongues. 
  
And when the fires subside, 
I look back at glowing cinders and ash. 
  
I flee, from myself, I return bound to Tartarus, 
Alone . 
  
Until the drums beat their monotone. 

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He, Who Took His Own Life

He puts the gun up to his head,

wondering if there was another way instead.

Painful memories flash through his head, 

his being mesmerized at the words she said.

He realizes how much he means to her now,

a pile of waste, from your typical cow.

There was no hope, nor light, 

or energy to keep up the continuous fight.

All he wants is an easy way out,

and down he shall go, into this dark route.

Resting on the desk is his suicide note, 

hopeless, depressing words on paper did they float.

"Friends, family, I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, 

but at least know this; I'll always love you."

He presses the trigger, wanting to end his pain,

the gunshot lost, in the sound of pouring rain. 

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Both are Angry

Like Rama in the Ramayana, my fury is just,


But the things have turned worst,


When she gets heated as well,


What is the solution now? None can tell!


 

My anger is rational,


Yet she gets rather emotional,


After the harsh words have uttered I,


She heads off saying only one word- BYE!


 

At this instant I am in a fix,

 

Maybe like a magician I should apply some tricks!

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tags:

Gorgeous revenge

The severity of the situation is reaching an all time hi

should I violently react or just let it fly?

your engorged words have pierced the innocent ghost

a 40 ton wieght of revenge is what would get me off the most

if I choose the darkened path my future will cease to exist

however the beautifully dressed possibilty of revenge is at the top of list

like a beast in the night, a monsters dreams, like a lions roar

maybe someday I'll have no choice but to deliver death to your door. 

 

19 and Naïve

WARNING: This is a heavy piece of writing that deals with the topic of sexual assault through relaying a survivors experience of date rape. If you are offended or sensitive to this subject matter, then please refrain from reading this particular piece. 

 

To everyone else: I wanted this piece of writing to channel the various feelings, thoughts, and overall experience of what it's like to go through such a horrific experience. It's choppy, it's scattered, and it's devoid of warmth. It's as though you're watching these events occur, but you aren't really experiencing them. You're disconnected; dissociated. To the survivors of sexual assault, my heart goes out to you and I know your many pains. For me, writing about my experiences has provided more healing than any shrink or pills ever could. 

I'm always here to talk if anyone ever needs a listening ear, or sounding board. 

You're not alone.

 

-G.B

 

 

19 and naïve

Lonely

Desperate

 

She rides the 5E down the line

It's 11 PM

Past her bedtime

Work in the morning, she'll sleep in

 

One shot,

One night,

One boy who never paid her mind

 

Cold, it's the Dead of winter. She takes off a glove and fixes her hair

 

He's finally noticed her

She's coming at his midnight beckon

 

Houses with closed blinds fly past the window

Ever closer to her destination

 

her heart beats in rhythm to the bumping of tires over potholes

 

A man boards the bus,

waves a glove in her face

Crazy wide eyes and alcohol on his breath,

insanity pours out of a poisoned mouth

 

She sidles past and steps outside,

Cold air punches her lungs and leaves her gasping

 

She's walking

Walking

Walking

 

Towards the house in the middle of the street

 

The house he's waiting for her in

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting for his chance

 

Stopping at the porch, he welcomes her with open arms,

Tall and strong, enveloping her in a disconcerting embrace

 

They enter,

A staircase leads up

 

to a room

 

The room

 

The room with posters

And a laptop

And an inflatable mattress

 

'We're going to watch a movie'

 

It's not a question

 

We are

I am

 

I sit, but he wants to lay

His voice slithers wet and heavy in my ear

 

'You want it, but I'm not giving it to you'

 

My brain starts to ache

Confusion

Throat becomes sandpaper

I've forgotten how to breathe

 

I don't want it

 

Hands now roaming my body without permission 

Shallow compliments fall on me and explode in a queasy stomach

 

I'm going numb

His mouth on mine

This isn't how I imagined it

 

Fighting back against bile rising in my throat

 

When did I become naked

 

He tells me I want it

 

I still don't

 

What happened to the movie

I just wanted a movie

 

He's inside me

Everything hurts

His face is ugly

And I think I hate him

 

He tells me to shut up

 

I can't

 

A hand strikes me

 

Shocking

Stinging

 

'I told you to be quiet'

 

Strong hands now hug my throat

A violent embrace

I want to cough

I can't

 

Squeezing

Gripping

 

Spots dance before my eyes

 

Tears threaten to fall

Please don't betray me

Trying to maintain

 

I can't

 

 

He grabs my face

 

'Are you crying?'

 

There's amusement in his voice

It's a game to him

 

He soothes me

Wipes my tears

Before resuming

 

Mouth to my ear again

Hissing

Growling

 

'I love raping you

 

I love raping you

 

God it's good

 

Dirty whore

 

I know you love it'

 

I'm there for years

I think I flew away  for a few of them

 

Up

Up

Out of the room with the inflatable mattress

Out of my body

 

The body that rejected me

Made this happen

Nightmare

 

It's finally over

A lifetime has passed

I never knew a body could feel like this from the inside

 

I am dirty

Defiled

Hurting

Alone

Angry and

 

Betrayed

 

Now downstairs,  he pulls me on his lap

Another man is there and they casually chat

They're laughing

 

I'm sick

 

And I think he is too

 

Going home now

I'm back

I'm alive

(I think)

 

It's so cold

 

I work tomorrow

 

I'm going to sleep in

 

 

Of A Woman Named Rain

Eyes closed.

 

The distant sound of lazy, rolling waves caresses your ears. You're no stranger to patterns and repetition, but the predictable noise of the tide is somehow different, somehow comforting.

 

Inhaling deep breaths of salty air that carries the song of no responsibilities or cares, you revel deeply in the foreign sensation of utter tranquility. 

 

A bird calls from somewhere nearby and it shakes you only slightly from this dream like reverie.

 

A perfect escape.

 

You find yourself humming along to the tune of the breeze as it playfully ruffles your hair; the thought of sangria crosses your mind for a brief moment, but drinks are best for leaving the office behind.

 

And right now, you're in paradise,

no liquor required.

 

You stretch sore muscles, still stiff from sitting in that damned chair for what feels like days on end. The warm tropical air seems to breathe life back into a weary body.

 

Your shoulders momentarily shudder. The weight of your normal life unexpectedly seeps in like an unwanted visitor.

 

Guilt.

 

You fumble and struggle to push it out of your mind and refocus again on the warmth of the midday sun against your face.

 

Outside of this place, there's a storm. A relentless hurricane that batters against stability; torrential rains pound against buildings and flooded streets keep you trapped in that  office.

 

It's a dreary and abysmal existence.

 

If you think hard enough, you can recall a time when the sun would shine bright, and the sky was an endless sea of the richest blue.

When birds chirped melodies and the trees gladly borrowed  shade with leafy green palms.

 

Yet what once was life in technicolor gave way to dismal greyscale, and soon the rains came. What was supposed to be a season stretched on for uncomfortable lengths, and one day  you realized the storm was here to stay.

 

The relentless showering of water upon rooftops, and the continual howling of angry wind was enough to drive a man mad.

 

Yet you'd caught glimpses of the sun a few times- the briefest moment when the blanket of sullen grey cracked, and for those few seconds, hope was renewed.

 

Hope that the sun may yet shine again, that the birds may return; the only memories of the storm now collecting in raindrops rolling off their feathers.

 

It wasn't much, but it kept you holding on, and that's when you stumbled upon the secret place. A hidden corner of the world, somehow untouched by the storm outside.

 

It was the best and worst thing you could have discovered.

 

Each visit was a small slice of paradise, a break from watery misery, but your footprints tracked muddy reminders of bleak reality every time you entered. You feined ignorance but couldn't turn a blind eye to what was happening.

 

White sands, gradually staining with the murky darkness of the storm.

 

So often you mused to yourself if this place was your savior, or ultimate damnation.

For as pleasant and relaxing as it was, the nagging guilt of leaving others outside  as you indulged in relief left you walking back into the downpour with your head down,  and heart heavy.

 

It was impossible to tell if this tropical escape was necessary for staying your sanity, or if it was only a matter of time before it too fell prey to the swallowing blackness looming on the doorstep.

 

Only the roaming hands on the clock face of life could know the answer you searched for. And if you were honest with yourself, nothing else could quite compare to the way this beachy escape could make you feel. It stirred a long dormant part of you awake, and to lose this secret cove could feel like severing a lifeline.

 

You needed this.

 

For a man can only take so much mud and water squelching in his shoes before he slips under the same floods that have claimed so many before him.

 

"Perhaps, just perhaps, ignorance truly is bliss"

 

With renewed clarity, you dig your toes beneath warm sands  while the seagulls call, and a smile of contentment settles on your face.

 

When the breeze blows just right,

 

and the waves crash in tune,

 

you can nearly drown out the sound of the wailing winds behind you.

 

 

I don't need you

Why is it, people say

"I'll be there for you always"

When they turn right around and walk away?

Then they do what they do

Well, go to hell bitch

Because I don't need you

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tags:

Parade of Despair

Through the wet and rainy streets,
Cloaked in the liar's contacts. and bloody sheets
You know not of where you go,
But the blood you walk over and sew.

In this time, you believe you are okay,
Okay with murder that goes throughout the day
Through the homeless cries and terror
It's not your life or your own error

What's another's heart to hold in your hand mean?
If it doesn't give you the satisfaction and the attention of a queen?
Maybe somewhere, within your sickest dreams
Perhaps piercing the thickness, you can hear humanity screams
and in some part of your mind you care,
Or fail again, laughing maniacally as the blood drips in cold despair

Somehow, their commotion to you is entertaining
The bickering and troubles all the more sustaining
and yet somewhere, deep down, you realize it's not right.
But the sickness blinds you again, back again in the fright

Morality is like your brother, inside your mind, telling you it's wrong
But your voice cries out more louder, constantly crying, "But do I belong?"
and the shadow creeps in control of your hands and strikes again,
Like an old friend you've parted with that was poison, comes back attempting to explain

They say you are fine and you will be okay.
Like you say, except you are actually mentally astray
As the hand of sickness inside your mind plans out the next move
In reality you are empty, she says you have nothing to prove

The disgusting woman that is called society
Bringing forth what you tell others is anxiety
She holds you tight, like a incoherent mother
Whispering to you as she smothers you "There is no other"

Somehow throughout all that you have, depression calls,
Your father, comes to tell you "Despite the beautiful colors, you live within empty walls"
You cry for them to stop speaking
But they stop for none, they continue their horrid shrieking

As you fall to the ground, you try to escape by sleeping,
But it's only for a few hours, and time is weeping
You try to deny the things that you have mean and done
You salute to the cracked, and broken blurred skies of failure, and with it a black sun
Forever bringing a slanted shadow, that was once you, pleading "Bring me back, this wasn't really fun"

You yearn for something deep down, but without purpose for some reason
and your faces change again and again, like the months and the season
You know not anymore of what the world means to you
Forever alone you will be, cursed, trapped in your built igloo.

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Got the Life.

 There they go again, walking out the door.

Anger surrounds me, my tears silently hitting the floor.

 What am I to do? What am I to say?

I get put down for everything, perhaps run and play?

 It gets tiring, putting on my mask for everyone.

Happiness seems so far away, nothing ever seems to be fun.

 

 All I've known is that uncontrollable rage within me, waiting for a chance to be unleashed.

Whenever there was that sparkle of light, it's always outside of my reach.

 It's as if my own life was taunting me, the scars of the past taunting me.

Where can I run? Who am I to be? I don't know who to be.

The anger inside is about to peak, please help... 

Asking out loud hurts, I scream silently so no one can hear me yelp.

 Now it's coming out, my guts spilling out across the ground.

The monster's come out, the hammer is coming down.

 

 Everyone is going to feel my pain, 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Still in work.

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