trauma

Unrequited Love

Folder: 
Silent Hate.

You told him you loved him.

He told me "I was doing it for us"

You told him you loved him.

He told me “She was just a hole to stick it in”

You told him you loved him

He told me “She was easy”

You told him you loved him.

He told me “I did what I had to”

You told him you loved him.

He told me “She meant nothing”

You told him you loved him.

He told me “She could have been anyone”

You told him you loved him.

He told me "The sex wasn't good"

You told him you loved him.

He told me “I had to think of you when I was with her”

You told him you loved him

 

He told me “I love you”

Alexander

Folder: 
What is Love?

To me and everyone else you were always Alex C.

 

I fell in love with Alex C.

I married Alex C.

I travelled with Alex C.

I wanted children with Alex C.

Alex C. Told me I was his everything

Alex C. Told me he could never hurt me

Alex C. Told me I was the only one for him

Alex C. Vowed to be loyal to me forever

 

My Husband Alex C.

 

Then one day you were Alexander.

 

I cried because of Alexander

I broke because of Alexander

I lost my love because of Alexander

I have a hole in my heart because of Alexander.

Alexander knowingly hurt me, more than anyone has hurt me in my life.

Alexander did unspeakable things to me

Alexander broke his vows

Alexander gave himself to someone else.

 

A whore’s lover, Alexander. 

 

 

You told everyone you wanted to be Alexander but no one listened. Is that still what you want Alexander?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My Husband always told people he preferred Alexander, yet Alex C. was what he used on everything, he would introduce himself as Alex and everyone always called him Alex...until her. She called him "Alexander". 

What Am I To Make (Of Who I Am?)

What am I to make of who I am?
I can't blame tomorrow for yesterday
Here I am, already fingering blame
Convicting something that has yet to happen

 

I'm charging the hands of time
That has still to be announced
With a list of thought crimes
Of having cursed us, having lied
From us, having stolen itself
Telling us we had more than was left

 

I'm charging the hands of time
With a list of thought crimes
I'm locking the future up
With those that I never forgave

 

What am I to make of who I am?
If I can only become this man
Here I am, all ready to ruin the day
Guaranteeing agar agar for Misery to breed

 

In rage,
I've kidnapped the charms of life
Blindly,
Somehow, I've ended up
With a knife in my hand
The knife to it's neck
Tomorrow's pleading eyes
Snapping me out of it
I was about to kill a kid
Because he could become a Hitler

 

I'm charging the hands of time
That has still to be announced
With a list of thought crimes
Of having cursed us, having lied
From us, having stolen itself
Telling us we had more than was left

 

I'm charging the hands of time
With a list of thought crimes
I'm locking the future up
With those that I never forgave

 

I'm sorry, Tomorrow
Forgive me, today
I should have forgiven you
Yesterday

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Looking down a road to bypass..

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A Corrupted Mind

Folder: 
Poems.

A mind so innocent

Corrupted

But the feeling so magnificent

 

A mind so confused

Used

And flat out abused

 

It did not feel

What it was supposed to

It all became too unreal

 

Emotions shoved away

Masked with anger and hate

They always felt justified

It were the emotions that lied

 

Those little hands were tied

Manipulated by the obscene

A corrupted mind

Didn't exactly want them to be free

 

A mind, once innocent

Was lured into a darkness

It all started in that basement

Where the emotions were too much to harness

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Itching

Itching

It's twitching

Deepp within my mind

This dark pit

can't hold it

Spreading deep inside

Disable

Destable

My mind is getting weak

Evolving

Unfolding

Breaking the hold i try to keep

Embolding

Controlling

The perversive inner thoughts

Intrusive

Abusive

Memory illusion perception distorts

Disdain

Self Pain

I must refrain

Impose

Dispose

Swim through bloodstain

Murder

Must hurt her

Must Ignore this urge

Elusive

Conclusive

What does Death deserve

I hide her

A minor

No name no life no age

Dead

In her bed

Except upon a written page

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Originally posted on Candid.

 

Just made this up 2322 gmt 15/4/17

About a woman dealing with trauma of child rape contemplating suicide.

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Seven Sins

Folder: 
Humanity

It always demands a sacrifice

It - or - They demand a deal

They are the devil at the crossroads waiting for a soul to steal

The choices of the seven deadly sins

Which one will you choose?

 

Lust

Gluttony

Greed

Sloth

Wrath

Envy

Pride

 

It consumes the light, but in return fills with dark pleasure acting as a temporary high; a short-lived fix that like acid burns.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The seven deadly sins resides in all of us....

Fourteen Years Ago Today

Fourteen years ago today tragedy struck and my life has never been the same

I remember it like it was yesterday

Within seconds it was all over and I knew that it was gonna be the last time ...

For everything

 

Blunt force trauma to the head

On life support ... no brain activity

She's brain dead

She's taken off life support

 

This is not how I imagined saying goodbye

She'd just turned 3 and I'd just turned 5

I'd been forced to take on the mother-like role before it was my time

But I didn't care because as far as I was concerned, I was her mother

Through no fault of our own, we were robbed of our childhood and our innocense

 

He has no conscience

No remorse

He's a fuckin' sociopath

 

"We, the jury, find Donnell Joseph Demetrius Dutch guilty of felony murder."

He escapes the death penalty and life in prison

He's sentenced to 40 to 50 years in prison with the possibility of parole; (over my dead body) plus an additional 17 years for negligence and he has to do half of that 40 to 50 year sentence before he's eligable for parole


He's dying in prison

I don't know if he's came to that realization yet,

But on everything I love

I will ensure that he spends the rest of his days behind bars

It's not a threat

It's a promise


R.I.P. Layla La'Chelle Randolph (Mogwai)

April 9, 1999 - May 5, 2002

"Guardian Angel"


 

 

 

 

 

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Things That Can Change You

He cracks two eggs into a pan,

As the smell of morning awakens the kitchen,

His silver car parked outside,

His fat cat watching him from the kitchen window,

He makes his favorite; Mushroom and swiss omellette, bacon, two pieces of toast,

And of course his tall mug of tea,

The plate is overflowing,

Butter is making a slow drip onto the table,

As the steam rises and the smoke dances from the freshly sizzled eggs and bacon,

He is scrambling to dive his fork into his meal,

He wouldn't want to be late again,

He has no idea that this will be the last time he eats breakfast in his own home,

The last time he sees his mother,

I want him to stay, enjoy being normal,

Enjoy having his crazy family,

Because at least he has them,

 

Soon she'll finally have enough,

She'll leave town,

Try her luck on her own,

I remember her confessing her secret poem to me,

When I was too young,

Terrified that for the first time in my young life,

I could do nothing to keep her tears from falling,

They fell like rapids,

Each one avalanching off her cheek,

Splashing to the ground,

Like a rain drop, like a tsunami,

I could see his hands stroking her hair,

His body against her back,

His whispers barking at her ear,

Her shivers with each syllable,

As he slowly buried her innocence,

I can see everything she hid from him at that exact moment,

All the beauty and strength that he will never get to see,

It crumbles down her face like pieces to a puzzle,

She stops reading,

She's hyperventilating,

"It's okay" I say like some fucking broken record,

"It's okay, I swear" As I beg myself to shut up,

 

That was her day to never be normal again,

The day life stopped being familiar,

Her cries still ring in my ears

Her hand still welded with mine

 

 

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Cancer Coaster

Folder: 
The Rest

6 weeks 3 days and 4 hours.  Less than 2 months and life has been redesigned around me.  Mother now patient, child now carer, home now prison, hospital now home.  Every day the probabilities evolve and normality changes.  Prognoses masking people behind the portion of each percent. 

 

Each day at a time.  Each life sucking, drawn out, cancer filled day.  Fighting to climb out of the miasma of everything to do with the disease, desperate to see glimpses of an old reality around it.  How do you deal with something this outrageously huge and unfair?

 

You do. 

 

You draw on the visceral core of what it is to be human.  To survive. 

 

This battle has only just had it's lines drawn.  We are outnumbered 4 to 1.  And if our surgeon decides the battle is not, on balance, to our benefit 3/4 of our troops leave with him.  20% chance we stand relatively whole, enemy slain in 5 years.  If we fight alone it's 5%.  No general would authorise this fight, but they are not in charge.  It is the common people, clawing until their last breath breath to protect the loved ones and way of life they leave behind.

 

Chemical warfare and targeted strikes.  Lots of collateral damage.  Many times ahead, looking at the suffering and doubting this is worthwhile. 

 

Each day at a time.  Each painful, nauseous, fearful day.  To survive.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is about the fight I'm going through with my Mum.  I'm her primary carer and she has pancreatic cancer.  If you know nothing about it and are curious try www.pancreaticcancer.org.uk.  It is the least treatable type of cancer.  Only 20% of people discover it before it's spread because it causes few symptoms early that are not easy to write off to other causes.  Of those people with localised tumours, 1 in 5 won't be able to have surgery because major vessels are involved.  Of those who have surgery only about 20 percent don't die of complications, recurrence or spread in 5 years.  Don't ignore persistent indigestion, unexplained weight loss or unusual toilet habits.  Get checked out.

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