This passage from my memoir "Cult Child" discusses a near-death experience I had when I was five years old.
We Are Your Revelation
Sexual abuse, trauma;Leaves physical scarsToo deep to ever leave.They etch into the skinA constant reminderOf being a victim. Torn tendons in groins.Cracked backs,Hips askew and brainsWracked from pain,From the blows you threw,Sadistic things who,Found their way to earth,Soon returning to the dirtWhere they belong,Fodder for worms,Leaving behind aftermathThat the apatheticWant to forget. We will never … Continue reading We Are Your Revelation
Mom’s Sick. Dad’s Abusive. I Have Let Go.
I imagine cutting off contact with him probably made him treat my mother worse. I’m sure he took his anger out on her.
Skeletons remain in the spaces beneath the pain. My brain becomes a seismograph of moving timelines and opportunities to rewind. I enter the dark caverns armed. This is no place for charm or niceties. This is a war to be fought by a single army. I am one with what was formed. I go quiet … Continue reading Skeletons Remain
The Current Tide
TiredMoroseFlatThis feels likeAn aftermathOf the rubbleFrom a space shuttleI was never meantTo depart from. Thinking of homeI am a Universal vagabondWith my heart strapped on;Ripped so many timesThere is no more liningFor stitches,So I wrap it in twineTie a knot inside my chestA place to tetherThe sadness. Stop trying to fixThe broken heartedWith your big … Continue reading The Current Tide
What does it feel likeTo be a ghost shunned;A soul un-grieved,Un-missed and unforgiven? In the hovering bowelsOf mysticism where theCynics hang their hats,She waits to beAcknowledged. In these times thereIs a satisfaction in thisInter-dimensional reaction;When spirit feels the wishingJust like we didWhen we were littleAnd hurting. "You are undeserving." I see her thereWeeping. She isRepeating … Continue reading Un-Acknowledged
The shame of cult lifeNever leaves you. It follows like shadowsReflecting moments youAren't sure if you; Said something right,Did something right,Knew about a thing,A song, a phrase orA time period. You are constantlyEncountering momentsBeing sunk into an abyssOf dark absence. Will I ever notFall silent, when friendsEcho the shows fromA childhood INever laid eyes on? … Continue reading Falling Silent
Abstract writing is a style allowing the reader to interpret for themselves.
but if you don't want it, the full heart and the thriving; if you are wound tightly inside the cusp of your victimness, afraid that if you shine no one will notice, your hands will grow bruises and your fingers will become weak from gripping so deeply to the pain. change has to rise in … Continue reading Ethereal Strings
A Letter To the Defense
I think you hate me because you can't break me.
So much to say,Once held backBy attacks IRetrace my tracksAs silently theyWatch and wait. It won't dissipate.Fear is an illusion.I invite these intrusionsTo include truthEven if it hurts you. Surgery is painfulTo the human skin.Ignoring the woundWe can rot from within,Until we travelInto the coreWhere the bruisesFeel sore;Where it smartsIn the center of the heart. … Continue reading Kaleidoscope
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