A stabbing in the city

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~

You want this?
This silken slit?
You keep telling me how
Bad bad bad you want it
I want that pleasure too

But first do this:
Cut a slit in my skull
With a curved blade
Watch it bleed
Reach in deep
the bleeding stops
Penetrate me

My mind aches
My body
My walls
break under the pressure

~

Art cred: Matthew-morbid.deviantart.com

Served up buffet style

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There have been an inordinate amount of anti-rape protests, and advocacy that I have seen as of late. This particular one is in Brazil. These women are brave to withstand the enduring criticism not supporting their decided forms of protest. Some are half naked, indicating that they don’t deserve to be assaulted. Some are bending over in miniskirts. Personally, I think it brings up a good point, a woman proud of her body, isn’t necessarily seeking appreciation or viewing from others. She’s wearing what she wants to wear. What culture tells them adds value, makes them stylish. Maybe it’s comfortable, it really doesn’t matter. I would not be opposed to walking around naked all the time, as long as I didn’t get gawked at. So my skin likes the sun, sue me. 

 

“You save yourself or you remain unsaved.”  Alice Sebold

 

The advocacy also reminds me of my assaults, which I don’t like to be reminded of, but wouldn’t mind if I prevented someone else the trauma. The “asking for it” bit was the circumstance around all three separate assaults in my life. Because I was drunk, because I gave someone a hug, because I looked so good, because I was a prior partner, because it was expected.

Let’s all just take our clothes off and walk around until it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m game. 

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Waste

Waste

She…wandered aimlessly for hours, weeks, even years. She was looking for self or some identifiable thing or person. She gazed upon every mirror, every shiny car, piece of chrome, glass window, seeking reflection every minute of every day…was never found. In conclusion, she was never found. What a waste.

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Voyeur

Voyeur

***

Strobe lights-fire drill
Basketball Brackets
Cracks on the windshield
Precursor for pre-medication

I’m like a jack of most trades
Master of none
Home feels insane
Where I watch my pain from across the room

Bile is creeping up
Through the nouns and verbs
The world is heavy and disgusting
And beautifully cursed

2 hour process
To change your profile picture
Put the plastic on your head
Oh god, I just realized I’m single

Trust
Is a social cognitive theory
Chew on that
contemplate

Puppet masters:
Then fuck with us, now
Minute by minute
Hate by hate

I used to like a band called Interpol
Not so much anymore.
I swear to god
I will kick the help

Did you see the show with the brainless fucks?
Something about zombies.
Zombies watching zombies
No judgement.

I feel all of it
It muddles my love
I can’t handle it all
So I make love

***

Photo credit: http://wedevelopandwedecay.tumblr.com

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Shadow Sur-reality

Shadow Surreality

Shadow Sur-reality*

(I know I made that word up)

You walk through a door that’s plagued your psyche.

The people who would have scorned you before

only see you in their peripheral, paying no attention.

There is a storm waging outside. The air has come to life.

There are shadows on the walls, from the wind.

Is a shadow real,

or just our perception of what’s supposed to be there?

You ponder all of life’s mysteries.

You sit, in chaos, all night.

Voices and thunder effect you the same.

The sights are monstrous and ugly,

the bones and death and dilated pupils.

When the shadows recede

the sun comes up in the morning, it is quieted.

The trees, that made the shadows that terrorized you,

in this morning light look majestic.

Their roots dig deep they reach into the sunrise.

You get up, you walk down the middle of the sunny boulevard

and remember those shadows forever

as a new perspective settles in.

 

**

Artist Forrest Sargent

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Beautiful fabric

Beautiful fabric

Let me drape you in rich fabrics, darling
I want to take your photograph
The lens of my camera loves you
The way your curves hold the reds, greens

I can see the hesitation in your eyes
You will look beautiful
“But don’t I already?”
I’m so lucky to be here right now

“But, aren’t I pretty enough?”
“I’m also funny, intelligent, and kind.”
Move your right leg down a bit
Tilt your chin up… a little to the right…. Perfect

**snap….snap………snap**

Darling, you don’t look happy
Please make love to my camera
“I will try.”
“Am I beautiful now?”

****
Photo credit: Chicago-based photographer Patty Carroll’s series Anonymous Women: Draped

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Facadism

I wrote this without rewrite. I left it as organic as it was. This ominous song was playing in my head.

>
>
Personal crisis…
societal, familial expectations
brought me to this point
and I am ready to give it up.

The good paying job, fuck it.
I will get raised eyebrows for this one.
As if I am not “crazy” enough as it is.
I can’t do it. anymore.

I need to be able to rise and fall
to the symphony that is me
to let go of the guilt
I know this is the time.

repo my car, i don’t care.
my soul is in need of repair
the nudge I needed
has finally come from me.

queue soundtrack…..

By melanieimhoff Posted in Poems

Wedding rings and glass coke bottles

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First off… whatever happened to angel dust?

A guy gets his cock stuck in a (his?) wedding ring.
How small is your cock, or how big is your god damn wedding ring finger? Not sure which question is more relevant.

Another guy sticks a glass coke bottle up his ass, and can’t get it out. Takes him days to present to his local emergency department, where he must undergo surgery.

Maybe, just maybe, angel dust has made a comeback.

Alone

What do I call love.
Empty caresses on sticky skin
What do I call pain.
Live in my head for two days

Fuck it
Ravage me to my core

Torn skin keeps me alive
In This solitary way

Not ever forever

Alone

By melanieimhoff Posted in Poems