yeasty blooms

 Patterns Laid Bare Minus Pinking Shears

I bought pinking shears in 2014. He gave them away

And now I suppose, if she didn't use them, they lay

In a trash heap, the plastic bins and yarn on full display

And the bonnet, the dress, the Busy Book Mom made

For my baby and toddler self riddle with that charade

Jeff recreates woman to woman, now with men in play

Because with each failing that renders his neon disarray

The gulf widens with myself. I wonder at my fiscal decay

And the quiet BPD that died when I realized my sexcapades

Were no longer about putting my molested child on parade

And I see how far I have come, and why when you say

"You're beautiful," the destruction reconstructs a way

Back to the tomorrows unfolding from unscattered today

As the frightened part of me offered up the part so unafraid

To see you as all you are, but left me behind, my love repaid.

I think i republished love is power just now!

 well, it holds true. i wonder what the post says.

love is power, whew. i'm really talking about some things i keep buried. i'm not just this rape survivor who cries all the time the way the Deaf community says.

my therapist being Deaf, it's very hard letting him in. letting him in my real self, the roots of who i am, because i survive in the hearing world, and semi-camouflaged.

but, whew, i was consulting you last night, the mean you and the you who would be a realistic person if you knew me.

and today i ended up explaining about mike k. how traumatic all of what he was still remains. he's a sick fuck and i'm the one catching flak because of how i knew i had to keep him away, at all costs. whatever, is truly whatever, and i'm telling my therapist the entire circumstance of how it came to be that mike keathley was able to steal my lighter when i was 19. and he's never felt safe breathing around me ever since i brought it up on Facebook in 2014. which is one of the weirdest revenge experiences ever, in both directions. he's a real dick.

you're just...never gonna see me.

because i wouldn't tell you the worst things jeff did to me. it all sounds fake because it's coming out now, late, too late.

a whole rainbow's tail, and i just wanna mellow to the tale.

i kept trying to mellow the tale.

but kool-aid is a dye.

love is power

you know?

turns out darnell…maybe?…who else? it was darnell, because no one else knew about brett (whatever his real name is), except ally, and i didn’t use the word “scammer” with ally…ran interference?

and brett was all, “so you need some loving, I can tell,” when i broke down over it, thinking i had somehow told someone else about him, and i hadn’t, thinking it was all a big mess, that the Deaf community was gonna hunt me down again…that i had a bunch of people gunning for him and greedy for my babies—

—and “i wish i could believe that,” I replied, at the same time he sent “so i’m gonna show you some loving with my cock,” and he told me how he was gonna force that 12” into my ass repeatedly. repeatedly. no, thanks. I would like to avoid anal prolapse, and i would like to retain control of my sphincter. so that was his punishment. 

but as the day wore on he was all, “no, i’m gonna demand an apology and slap your face with it,” which—i would take that from you, i would take it every single time, because i do owe you an apology, and i’d apologize every single time you wanted—but i don’t need to apologize to someone who is definitely a liar, someone who just wants me because he thinks i can handle his entire foot-long Coke can tower, and i have no actual interest, i just wish you were this easy to joke around with, i can’t understand why you’re so stiff, but i see you really are, that you just feel stuck in a life you didn’t get to design, and i understand just a little more…

…then when i asked if he could go back to using constant anal as his punishment, and i knew i didn’t really want that, but i figured there’s plenty of time to get out of it, get out of me and him, get out of this bad dreamland where i really am not as respected as i wish to be…he says that he didn’t really mean “loving” me with his cock, he means shoving it everywhere, in my face, my mouth, my throat. i already told him, you know, that when i had my tonsils removed—i can’t accommodate that, never, and anyway, i don’t want my mouth to try that, i don’t want to deal with accommodating a COKE CAN, okay, much less a COKE CAN TOWER, all right…

…and i have to come back, where love is power

even if that’s not the power you understood was me.

cruelty needs a home

he said he’d turn me into a cum bucket. i don’t really like that. then he said he’d be okay with having babies.

but then he wouldn’t let go of anal anal anal anal anal anal anal

i was with john reefer when i first moved to new york. he wasn't a producer yet, he was homeless (which i figured out later), but everyone said he was so goddamn cute. after i broke up with him, for a month he'd be in my bedroom and ambush me with anal. my roommate kept letting him in. he'd just grab me, rip my clothes off, and slide in from any angle he pleased. i have the most intense anal orgasms and can't stop screaming until it's over.

giving him anal, no, no

coming with him, never

it is a physical anomaly

i don’t think he seems like a caring person. but he was so funny. fun. intelligent. but—i really don’t want 12” or 13” with such girth. i ruined this instead of asking if we could just stay online for a few months more, until I could fix what jeff did to me. he really beat me very badly. he did something…that i have to fix. he went to jail while i was pregnant with zeb, two days after what he did, one day after i found out there wasn’t enough money in my account to fix it.

jeff is evil. he said that if i ever fixed it i’d find someone else. and with you—oh, i wish every day that i could die, but i don’t wake up thinking about it anymore because of you. because of how happy i feel. I wake up feeling whole. feeling like me. 

how does one cope with having a tooth knocked out because her fiancé is having INSANE, rolling-his-eyes-back-into-his-head, speaking-in-tongues sex WITH THE BABY IN YOU, not you, the FUCKING FETUS, brutalizing you beyond anything you’ve ever dreamed him capable of, so that you scream in the hopes that his mother hears you and calls the police, only when you scream he

knocks out your tooth

and then you meet someone you want more than the world 

living and loving

it’s a terrifying thing: white lives matter, huh?

i just—i realized that i needed…you mattered, and I’d been shrinking myself to pretend i wasn’t me, after things went down in my neighborhood.

it’s just—i had to take stock of myself and weigh what matters. integrity? integrity. 

but i wanted you to touch me, to hold me. your hands are so cold

now

sarlacc pit

 home of my first fantasies, dressed like leia

bronze finery so whittled it's hard to see

it's luke, you're superimposed and i'm holding

such bitter heart, so sweet sprinkles and so cool

a mound of whipping, your mound of cream

eternally missing, and i eat, and i eat, and i eat

and i feast, and i entreat--may i beat (off to) your heart--

darnell says that the most brilliant mind you will meet

lies in the poems i send unwarranted, saturated with your distaste

your confusion, your illiteracy surrounding why

strangling jabba after janna after rapist is the thing i'm doing with just one hand

as i send you a thousand wings soaring unchained

the feast of love: the feat of my mailbox

 it languishes there, without my key--

a keyhole, without you the lock--

there will be nothing to spoil, if i leave it be--

but leaving it doesn't turn back the clock--

nor will it hobble spring, when it comes

the lock will never spring if it's too stuffed

with magazines for the children, bills for me

and a tiny little hatchling who yearns to sing