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GNAWING
And still I feel it just gnawing at my tummy, long gone are the days illuminated by the orb, warm and sunny, depleting caloric life like the tapeworm inside bunny, a type of… hunger ravages, pure and mean
This kind of savage remains unseen, unkempt, borne in violence, made of silence; unclean, not alive, not a spectre, a spectacle in between, shimmering ever so slightly, covered in an intestinal sheen
I am an ill-functioning, oilless, fleshy machine filled with caffeine, pills, sleeplessness, and crystal saline, sneaking through the hours of night, empty, callous, and lean on the brink of breaking down
Soil red the partition and the hospital gown, this wouldn’t have happened if you’d simply swallowed the secrets down like a good little girl, with a quiet smile, not a telling frown and in the closet wall the bloody fabric dries to brown…
And they never expressly or deliberately said, “Don’t you tell.” but you knew if you DID, you would be made even more sick, more unwell, so in your little soul, the dirty sadness would swell, infecting your trust, your mind, your heart, your every cell
There are times when the dirtiness does so compel me to toss instead of a coin, my entire BEING into the well, wishing while falling to never again smell the cologne of nicotine and ethanol, mixed
Fearing that I will never be fixed, that my trustlessness in men will never be nixed, my disgust for those swimmers will not be 86’d, I will not let him in
Room there is not in this place of relative safety for which I have fought, for him and any of his stories I may have bought, lovelorn and raw and forever completely caught in the year of nine
Trust in the Lord and all should be fine sounds more and more as I think of this like just another line to brush pain and brokenness underneath the carpet, but they’re MINE, I don’t expect it to get better, I expect it’s part of his design
But still I pray to just forget that I was treated as a predator’s pet for years of which I am distinct in only one-
I tried and I tried but my legs couldn’t run-
And even now, tears assault my eyes, why did I have to be a little girl harboring lies?!
Why was I surrounded by monsters in familial disguise?!
Why do I fall asleep beneath chest-rattling cries…
And of that hunger that rages within..
It, too, is borne in violence, it’s blacker than sin-
It is vengeance and it is out of my hands-
That is what His word demands
Sometimes, when I hear the winter wind blow, dread starts to creep up my spine, all sick and so slow, memories prick at my mind, things I still let no one know, I have to somehow, I must let this go
#llfloreswrites
© All Rights Reserved
This kind of savage remains unseen, unkempt, borne in violence, made of silence; unclean, not alive, not a spectre, a spectacle in between, shimmering ever so slightly, covered in an intestinal sheen
I am an ill-functioning, oilless, fleshy machine filled with caffeine, pills, sleeplessness, and crystal saline, sneaking through the hours of night, empty, callous, and lean on the brink of breaking down
Soil red the partition and the hospital gown, this wouldn’t have happened if you’d simply swallowed the secrets down like a good little girl, with a quiet smile, not a telling frown and in the closet wall the bloody fabric dries to brown…
And they never expressly or deliberately said, “Don’t you tell.” but you knew if you DID, you would be made even more sick, more unwell, so in your little soul, the dirty sadness would swell, infecting your trust, your mind, your heart, your every cell
There are times when the dirtiness does so compel me to toss instead of a coin, my entire BEING into the well, wishing while falling to never again smell the cologne of nicotine and ethanol, mixed
Fearing that I will never be fixed, that my trustlessness in men will never be nixed, my disgust for those swimmers will not be 86’d, I will not let him in
Room there is not in this place of relative safety for which I have fought, for him and any of his stories I may have bought, lovelorn and raw and forever completely caught in the year of nine
Trust in the Lord and all should be fine sounds more and more as I think of this like just another line to brush pain and brokenness underneath the carpet, but they’re MINE, I don’t expect it to get better, I expect it’s part of his design
But still I pray to just forget that I was treated as a predator’s pet for years of which I am distinct in only one-
I tried and I tried but my legs couldn’t run-
And even now, tears assault my eyes, why did I have to be a little girl harboring lies?!
Why was I surrounded by monsters in familial disguise?!
Why do I fall asleep beneath chest-rattling cries…
And of that hunger that rages within..
It, too, is borne in violence, it’s blacker than sin-
It is vengeance and it is out of my hands-
That is what His word demands
Sometimes, when I hear the winter wind blow, dread starts to creep up my spine, all sick and so slow, memories prick at my mind, things I still let no one know, I have to somehow, I must let this go
#llfloreswrites
© All Rights Reserved
