take back the night (kill the desperate memory)
7.31.11 – 8.1.11
11:43 pm – 12:06 am

x

take back the night of innocence & hope shattered like glass,
transparent as my nakedness beneath his violent thrusts,
and return to me my soul.
all of my wounds are torn open raw
as I bleed myself away into the nothing that I have always been
that was revealed on the night he devoured my frailty
and left me dead inside as his lust & violence consumed me
and forever tore me away from myself
like innocence bled dry from a once-redeemed soul
and paper skin ripped from layers of everything numb,
and from the bones that were crushed beneath his naked body.
my screams were swallowed, my anguish stifled
as helpless left everything numb and raw
and drenched in the blood flowing from my wrists
and pouring out from between my forcefully spread legs.
tears meant nothing to him, so were released in a single violent wave
of twelve hours spent horribly naked, bruised, bleeding and throbbing
on a hospital bed so much more white than what I deserved -
tainted like my ruined heart beneath the crimson blossoming from
the shell that was once my body, now violated beyond repair.
the tears are still being shed through the nightmares
in which I lose myself, torn from my own abused flesh
and swallowed up in shame, and die
to everything beautiful & real.
if I remembered how to bleed,
I would sh(r)ed this worthless ghost that he left behind
to suffer in silence, and forever hurt in ways far beyond
what mere words could ever express.
but when I feel too much, I become numb,
remembering the desperate disassociation
that blanketed me – smothered and choked me -
as he pounded into me.
I would scream until my raw throat bleeds like the rest of me
that he is the monster that destroyed me,
but his apathy makes its way inside as forcefully as his body.
to die would be to bleed no more,
but how can I die when he already stole all of the light
that was once held within me,
and when the burning flames of eternal hell await me -
although the only hell I fear and feel
is the scorching, consuming flames
of my suppressed agony and my silenced torment.
there is no drama captured within these words -
all that I write bleeds true, drowned in pain.
if they were enough, I would offer them to you -
but, dead, I have nothing left to give.
Blood once flowed from pierced hands and redeemed me -
but the only redemption that I find now
is held within my infected scars.
where once there was beauty, only death remains -
and all I can do is endure the endless violent memory
of being raped from myself and from hope
until suicide finally steals me away completely,
and the emptiness that remains of me is revealed.