Push

My husband pushes me with prodding questions about my sexual history

It enrages him that I don’t display the intimate details of my past like trinkets at a flea market

He pries with jealous tones in his voice

He has nothing better to do than ‘solve the riddle’ of how many men have slept with me

I tell him the truth; I don’t know

I don’t tell him why there were too many to count. Early abuse trained me to be sex-trafficked, I was overworked and undersold

There are experiences in my life that I didn’t ask for

Uninvited guests who ruined my party

I have been violated more times than I’d care to tell

I don’t want to relive that hell

He is undeserving of such personal and painful information

His prying unlocks in me that deep dark, that suicidality that was once my constant companion

Standing face to face again, it is clear how much I have healed over time, and yet

I understand why ending my life is a natural conclusion

To take back my body, reclaim my flesh as my own

To liberate myself at last from the unbearable physical memories he invokes with his dredging interrogation

He cannot fathom the damage he causes

We end this round shouting

I dread and prepare for the inevitable; the next time he broaches the topic

When he demands out of the blue that I recap the worst moments of my life, I feel energetically destroyed

I start to count the cars on that long train of trauma and feel like a trapped animal, desperate for a way out

My old friend suicidality extends a hand, ‘I am here for you, when you feel pushed.’

Budding

Puberty

Overnight breasts sprung forth from my previously washboard chest and even more surprisingly, my hair became curly

I suddenly had the body of a full-grown woman combined with the underdeveloped mind of a teenager

Delighted by the gifts nature had bestowed upon me, I exercised my newfound power

I had always been shy, so I was relieved that my body could do the talking

An empath without knowing it, I felt the attraction that boys had for me and interpreted it as my own

Neglected as a child, I got high on feeling loved, even if what felt like love was really just attention

Not yet fifteen, I made out with three different guys at the same party

‘You need to stop snacking and settle into a meat-and-potatoes relationship’, my girlfriend advised upon hearing the recount of my latest conquests

How much richer to have the depth of one relationship, instead of innumerable budding connections

I had many friends with benefits

I was the benefit

For years, I lived off of sugar and kisses- I still do, though I am more discerning of my sources now

Due to the trauma of being molested as a child, I kept my teen sexplorations at second base and above, redirecting wandering fingers away from my trigger zone

To all the struggling young people: hang in there, life gets better

Flowers spring from the long, cold winter

Just wait

Tsunami

I want to go with you to the place beyond words

The place where our bodies do the talking in that effortless language

I want to go with you to the place where we first met and knew in an instant what we wanted

The place where a wordless message was exchanged by forces unseen, forces that move us ever closer

Forces more powerful than a tsunami

Sex, Money, Dishes

Tell me you’ve never fought with your partner about sex, money, or dishes.
Sex
I used to fight endlessly about sex, mainly because I didn’t want to have it but my partners did, so we’d fight and fuck, then I’d cry and be blinded by images of destroying my body or their body just to stop the rape and the torture of not feeling safe in my skin. Amazingly, we all survived and now I have a loving partner with whom I have gold-medal sex; you have to experience it to believe it, it’s like I’m cashing in on some sex fund which I invested in long ago. Happily I don’t fight about sex anymore- I’ve got a man I’m attracted to inside and out, and he loves me the way I want to be loved.
Money
I used to exchange sex for money. It seemed like there was always too much sex and not enough money in those transactions, or transgressions. Even those back-alley deals were more straight forward than my relationships in which sex was exchanged for the illusion of not being alone, for food, housing or ‘safety’, though I learned that the cost to my physical, mental and spiritual wellbeing which false relationships exacted was not worth the dinners, drinks, gifts of lingerie, attention or the roof over my head. You might get raped if you travel alone, but if you travel with a man you are guaranteed to get raped. Live within your means because fine dining won’t taste good if you are eating with a strange man, believe me I know. If you have to learn on your own I understand, however if my years of pain can help prevent a moment of your suffering, it will have been worth it.
Dishes
Rare is the man who finishes the dishes. Common are the men who stack the dishes artfully in the sink until there is barely room to turn on the faucet. I have noticed this pattern during my co-habitations with men. I’ve done too many dishes. It especially irks me when men drown sponges in the rinsed yet still not washed dish pile, unperturbed as the sponge decomposes into a musty mess. Men seem deaf to the silent cries of the forgotten dish sponge. Day after day, I rescue the sponge, wringing it out and restoring it to its rightful place safe on dry land, in sight. My man shows his love for me not only through our award-winning sex, but also through money (ie, responsibility for personal  finances to contribute to our future together) and dishes: ladies and gentlemen, my man did the dishes tonight, thus allowing me time to write the words you read. If a man loves you he will want to learn your love language, which you must teach him with patience, positive reinforcement, and more patience.
I grew up doing the dishes, in poverty, and sexually molested by family and friends. My sister would beat me when she got in trouble for not doing the dishes with me after we were told to do them, but the alternative would have been getting beaten by my parents for not doing the dishes, so I was going to get beat no matter what I did. I wished that someone would do the fucking dishes with me. A girl can get lonely amidst the dissolving suds.

HPV

She told me that I have HPV

Human papilloma virus: the ghost of ex-partners past came back to haunt me
I want to line up my exes: the awkward horn-bag teens, the sex clients who shortchanged and stole from me, the abusive drunks, dramatic douchebags, one-night-too-long one night stands, and interrogate them whodunnit.
I will never know, of course
I may have gotten HPV from dreadful fingering, though it was probably from unprotected intercourse
Intercourse most likely undesired, as most of the sex I’ve had was unwanted by me
It could have been worse, at least it was only HPV which I contracted after riding bareback on so many dozens of dicks- I don’t know now many men have slept with me, but any one of them could have easily given me HIV, somehow I was spared
God, you were there
Kids, don’t try this at home
I tell my cervix to hang in there, I will make it up to you, treat you right
My ex-boyfriends aimed and fired at my cervix: the bullseye of my reproductive tract
Whether I got HPV long ago or from my most recent mistake, it is in me now and I may lose a piece of me in a LEEP if I don’t overcome this virus
My LEEP will be a leap of faith that I will regrow intact and complete, heal myself and still have the power to create and give my baby a better life than mine
That is the goal in all I do, even the abortions I’ve endured were to make a better future for my children than the hell I’ve lived through
So listen little virus, I am a strong, powerful giant and I will destroy you
I’ve survived too much to be taken down by the likes of you- senseless double-strand of DNA who has consumed too many of my sisters, lost to the sands of time
You won’t take me, the war is on and it got personal
There is no way I’m going to let one of those awful men leave a lasting lesion on my body
I am the supreme iron dragon goddess warrior, and my healing potential is infinite
My abilities to love and forgive and understand are among my many strengths
Watch out, virus, watch out
Instead of spreading you to someone new, I will melt you with my amazing body, take you down with my brilliant immune system
You will no longer struggle to survive, you will unite with the Spirit which flows through all things, and you will flow right out of me in peace

 

Alice in Recoveryland

Alice had her heart broken

When she was quite small
And healing a broken heart
Isn’t easy at all
So she drank
To forget it all
But she couldn’t forget,
Even when she felt tall
In fact, the more she drank
The more she felt like she was falling
And falling…
Until- kerplunk!
She hit rock bottom, landed on her badunk
She had no where to go but up
But getting up is hard when you are on your badunk
Though Alice was hurting, she was also incredibly strong
So she climbed and she climbed, though her journey was long
To this day, she is climbing still
She is higher than she ever felt when she was looking out over windowsills
In towers guarded by grumpy ogreish men
Alice is a survivor, and she’d survive it all again
Her heart may have been broken,
But it never stopped beating
Though the sweetness of love was fleeting
And the bitter years of sadness and tears
Left a sting on her cheek and made her feel meek
She is finding her true voice
She is exercising her choice
To express herself in this world
Hers is the story of one small girl
Who grew into womanhood
The only way she could
Smoking this, drinking that
Sleeping with men wearing mad hats
Alice is every woman, in a way
Doing her best to recover from her past today
Building herself a better future
Re-writing her fairy tale
After giving so many men happy endings
She is creating a happy ending for herself
Filled with love, hope, and peace

Samurai

Before I knew how to love,

I freely offered up my heart

Blind shot in the dark
I was the one who dropped my heart on the floor
From my open hands
Not knowing that I had smashed through a door
Not knowing what I would gain
Not knowing what I could never lose
No one seemed to notice, no one intervened
As I set out on my own
Lifting the veil, stepping through the screen
It wasn’t easy
I made every possible mistake
Burning my fire to fulfill other people’s desires
I was able to do everything and anything,
Because I already felt dead
From the heartbreak which split and throbbed in my head
I flipped circus tricks in the strangest of beds
Unscripted, I drifted
I met so many people
I worshipped under unconventional steeples
Life is my book, my science, my art
It all started when I sacrificed my heart
Everyday I learn how to love more
Love myself, my life, my family
Love even the dregs of humanity
Those who have yet to wander away from themselves
Those who have yet to realize who they really are
Because they cling so tightly to their identity
I’m privileged to live like a Samurai; at once warrior, servant, and free

Dear Body

Dear Body,
I am sorry.
I am so sorry that I yet again knowingly harmed you and put you at risk.
I let a bare penis inside you, belonging to a man I barely knew.
Then I washed my morose down with several pints of ice cream.
I know damn well the risks of unprotected sex, and of ice cream.
And yet, and yet, how many times, body?
How many times will I humbly ask for your forgiveness.
Henceforth, body, may I treat you right.
Please body, forgive me tonight.
Sincerely,
Me

Warfare Fetish

I hurt myself
I commit acts of violence toward myself
I take a loaded gun- a bare cock, lock it into place,
Point it at my bulls-eye cervix
And fire away

Blast boom bam
Bedazzling fireworks are followed by smoke and tears
I burned myself in the crossfire for too many years
My body is the battlefield
The dust settles and the smoke clears
I know what I must do- get rid of this unhealthy relationship, drop that atomic break-up bomb on this unsuspecting man’s heart

Though he will complain of the grenade-like explosion I throw at him,
I am the one who picks up the pieces
I am the one who deals with pregnancy and gets an abortion
I am the one who feels the pain of picking out the bullet and the shrapnel shards- the little life growing inside my uterus

I’m sorry, little one
I’m so sorry
You didn’t get a fighting chance
I was fighting myself all along

I want peace for you, me and all beings
Finally, the dear doctor who provided my most recent abortion agreed to give me an IUD

I let out a sigh of relief, feeling supported by this safety net
I finally have control over my body and my future
No more pregnancy scares

I want to practice safer sex
With condoms every time
With printed STI results
That my partner and I exchange
Before we come close to swapping bodily fluids
I never want to have an abortion again

The next time I get pregnant, it will be because I want to, because I am ready, because my partner and I are committed to each other, and are committed to care for another little life.

After warring against myself for many years,
At last my love for myself has come along
May I take a break from singing this sad song-
May I stop getting my rocks off on harming myself
May I put my masochism back on the shelf.

May I no longer explore my fetish of warfare against myself.