Dark poetry

Do you find yourself safe?

Are you cozy with your latest mate?

You think me a weak flower

I’m more like a weed

I lived through the freeze

Without water

Starving of need.

Growing from a broken seed.

I found the little cracks

The bits of sunshine

I made my way through


Through the suffocation of men.

You think you know me?

You think you have me beat?

Lay with your latest conquest.

Close your eyes

And feel content

Feel convinced

That you have outrun

The truth you have bent.

Feel at peace

Knowing that piece of simple “meat”

Is broken and meek.

Remember? That’s what you called me.

I crawled

I clawed

Up to the light

And bloomed

In spite of you.

Do you find yourself safe?

I never have again

After what you did.

I know you think this is your happy end.

I know you’ve fooled all of your friends.

I know you think I am incapable of revenge.

Sleep well tonight.

Since no one chose my fight.

I will make this vigilantly act only mine.

My own law

Written to save your next prey.

Justice will no longer wait.

Sleep now.

Then read these words.

You’ll scream the sounds

Where mine were unheard.


I will find.

Around the corner?

Around that city wall?

Under your bed?

In the bathroom stall?

Your safety is now gone.

My petals finally reached the light.

They will not fall.

Where your boot tried to stomp out my truth

My resilience powered through.


I am coming



Shall I give you the mercy you gave me?

That only seems fair.

So don’t close your eyes

Or I will be there.

Or open your eyes

Try to find me in that stare.

Just sleep and have pleasant dreams.

Soon it will be just you

And me.

This is a fact.


And this time,

I have control


I’m bringing

My ax.

Wtf Chicago Med TV show advocates pedophiles?!!!!!

I was looking for a tv show to get my mind off of what’s on my mind. I thought Chicago med would do the trick. Just mindless when I am not wanting mindful. I wanted mindless.

They chose to highlight a pedophile. They chose to talk about how he was hard wired in his brain to be a pedophile. They chose to advocate for trying to make him not think he was JUST a pedophile because oh he had so many more things about his personality.

WTF Chicago Med writers?!!!!

This made me sick.

Someone,a doctor, held his hand, this pedophile as he died. Awwwww. So touching. No one held my hand fucking ever.

Obviously the writer of this show has no idea what it feels to be a victim of a pedophile. I am beyond words.

A hard read TW

There was a man I had a huge crush on when I was about 19 years old. We went mud bogging (redneck backwoods kind of thing) in a jeep with another guy. We were covered in mud. We were in a jeep and bouncing all around spinning mud all over ourselves. It was so fun. I hoped the guy liked me. His name was Roger. I had a mad crush on this guy. Later that night he invited me back to his place with his friend J and everyone had beers and watched TV.

* I cannot proof read this for errors due to my vision being blurred because of forgetting to take my seizure medication on time. Please overlook the typos and any misprint as I am only typing but unable to read the words I am writing

In the middle of all of us watching TV J just hoisted me over his shoulder and took me in the bedroom. There were no sheets on the bed. J was someone that every girl on earth wanted to date. He was gorgeous. He was sought after. I didn’t want anything to do with him though. I wanted to actually date Roger. J took me in the room and took all my clothes off and had sex with me. This was so closely after all of the abuse and dissociation that I don’t recall anything about the experience except the pattern on the bed with no sheets. I kept looking at it and tracing my finger around the flower pattern and the stitching. It was as if nothing was happening. I remember I was wearing this snap at the crotch tank top thing with a shirt and jeans over it. I remember that every day after that I wore layers and still do because it was far to easy to unsnap that snap. While J was having sex with me, Roger came in the room. I stood there and watched. I had my head turned to him looking at him. I thought he would do something or say something. He didn’t. He just closed the door. I didn’t want him to close the door. After J was done with me he got up and left. I got dressed and walked out into the room with the guys drinking and watching tv and no one even looked at me. I walked out thinking..well nothing.

I recall this event because I received an email notification that I had been Facebook friended by J. This could not come at a worse time. I am not using facebook for one. And I need no other memories. I have plenty.

Last night I watched a movie where a girl was raped. In the end the rapist was murdered and vengeance or justice or whatever you want to call it was served. The movie left me unsettled. No one EVER stood up for me, fought for me, did anything in regards of even speaking up for me. Nothing! No fight. All the fight I have done has been on my own. It left me wondering how I would have handled J and all of the other men who have taken advantage of me, used me, and abused me, had just one person shown me that NO we will FIGHT for you!

I was a child. I could not fight for myself. I grew up and still could not as a teenager fight for myself. Whether out of not wanting conflict, not wanting to cause a scene, not living in a society where it is appropriate to fight for a victim, I’ve heard ever reason for not standing up for me but never actually known how it feels to be stood up for.

I literally have no idea how it feels to stand and watch someone fight for me. Not just in violence but in words in stance in action or even in presence. My life has been full of passive when it comes to the crimes committed against me.

In this movie they used the word rape. At one point the good guy gets the bad guy to admit, yeah, I raped her. And I thought all day about this and even more so after the memory of J. That word rape. Just that word. A 4 letter word. Shouldn’t it be a 20 letter word. I mean, lets see, destruction, devastation, catastrophe, catastrophic, abomination, monstrosity. Can we not name what is done to us something more than just a 4 letter word that no one even knows really the GRAVITY of what it means.

I woke up this morning wishing no men even had penises. I was sick of them. Sick of their power and how they use that power to penetrate a woman in a space that was meant to have a child and create life and yet they use their penis to violate and destroy all the beauty. Then I realized that one of the men that harmed me didn’t even use his penis at all. He caused probably the most harm and no penis was even involved. Men with their power and their control, I cannot stand it. And the damage that is done should be more than just a tiny word that is rape. Why do men get to do this. Why do men get to get away with it. Why are there no vigilantes. Why is the law there to protect the guilty. Why is there no justice.

I have to many why’s. in reality I just want it all to go away. Most days I wish I were dead so I had no more memories of these men and what they have done to me and the after affects that I live with.

Here I am trying my best to find joy and beauty and love in the world and fight this fight and at the end of the day it can take the tiniest thing to make me wish I didn’t have to wake up tomorrow. All because of man. What man does. And for that matter the women who follow like my own mother.

I keep going back to a comment that was written on my blog about the sandhill crane protecting her baby and that really touched my heart and it made me realize too that was it really too much to ask for just anyone to stand over me and protect me. Every single time a man hurt me there was an opportunity to save me. Every time. But no one did. I feel, unvindicated. I guess that is not a word.

I know facing my abuser doesn’t fix anything and therapy has not taken away the parts of me that were violated. Allowing myself to feel has not fixed anything. Denying my feelings has done nothing. Finding joy has not fixed me.

I am in a boat and it is sinking and I just want one person to swim out to me and paddle for me. One person that will scoop up the water that is filling the boat and paddle me home.

Yesterday I reconnected with an old friend. What I did not say is that this friend is the one whose husband assaulted me 11 years ago and this is why I have not seen her. The reconciliation was needed. The closure was needed. Driving up to her house took me 3 times before I could walk to that front door because of the memories of what her husband did to me. But forgivness and closure and love were the most important thing for her and me. He is no longer in the picture. But i was reminded of him.

I am reminded of all of the men who took pieces of me that were not theirs to take. They took them by manipulation, by grooming, by knowing I was easy prey due to past abuse, took them by force. They took. And days like today I feel all of them and wish I could make them go away. But there they are on facebook. There they are living out their lives with their kids and new wives and fresh lives. Even my own parents living their lives like the ravaging and rape and savagery of my body didn’t take place and does not matter.

Today it all matters.

Thoughts on balance and trauma

A very old friend told me today how one trauma can affect a person deeply. How it can take away the safety that we thought we once had. One trauma.

She showed me that true love, real love, unconditional love, can create quite a victory. It can create forgiveness. It can create healing. That takes two people who can see into eachother’s hearts and souls and past the exterior. Past the ignorance of the presence and enlightened future that has brought two people back to love.

Not everyone can do this.

It takes two. It takes humility. It takes no ego. It takes an extraordinary evolution of the mind and growth in the soul. It takes action. It takes effort. It takes hope, faith, and change.

I was given this gift today of a friend that showed me the calm that can be created in my innerchild to feel mattered and heard.

One trauma she said.

One can take away that safety.

I had, well lets just say twice a week for 5 years. So that would be…104 times a year x 5 years…520 times by one man.

That’s a lot of trauma.

Years of terror.

Years of silence.

Years of submission.

Years of manipulation.

That was just the one man. That did not include his friends. That did not include other men in the waterskiing world.

There are men and women who have had worse violent trauma than I have. There are other children who have had the violator a family member. There are life stories I have heard that crush me. To think this is what humanity is. That men are capable of these atrocities. I know that women have abused. There is no comparison to what men have done.

He made me feel like I didn’t matter. All of those men made me feel like I did not matter.

Today a woman made me feel like I do matter. Just one hug was all it took to feel like I mattered.

Yesterday I got a call that I was accepted into a new genetic study. This man will search my genes and try to find the mutation causing this disease. He said the England Doctor who has been working on my case for 11 years told him about me.

It just seems so perplexing how I can matter to these two men so much. They desperately want to help me, heal me, find the gene causing his disease. Two men who don’t know me, I matter to.

My friend I have not seen in I suppose it’s been 11 years I felt I mattered to.

To my family, I do not matter. To the monsters that have abused me, I do not matter.

Such a fine line in my mind of a broken spirit to a strengthened spirit in just feeling like I matter.

Today I watched a sandhill crane and her baby. The mother and father were standing near the baby. I walked close and the parents made loud noises at me and stood over the baby. I don’t know what that would feel like. I will never know what that will feel like.

Having two men want to find the muscle disease answer, having my old friend hug me to my heart, gives me a clue at what it feels like to what that baby chick must have felt. That baby chick mattered more than anything to his parents.

I know what it feels like to be abandoned by those who are supposed to love you, disregarded, disbelieved, discarded. I will never get over it. I will never understand it. Parents are supposed to fight for their child.

It’s taken me years to learn to fight for myself.

There will always be the monsters. They may be destroying the earth, the animals, the children, the women, the little boys, humanity. Hopefully, there will always be even the slightest balance of a few good men who will fight back. Those two men who will fight to find answers for me. A woman who holds me as my mother should have.

The balance will always be heavily weighted on the side of the monsters. I’ve lived it. I’ve lived through them. The good news is that the few angel we come across have so much more power than the monsters. Two good men fighting for me are more powerful in their good than the 20 that tried to take me down. One good woman hugging me today is more powerful than the mother that chose not to. It is hard to keep that in perspective. Sometimes it feels the bad wins.

As long as we, as women, keep speaking, telling our truth, binding together, building our own tribe of survivors and fighters, then we win.

We win!