deepundergroundpoetry.com
Transgressions In Pain
I made mention of my dolled up days.
I could pretend the cigerette smoke haze clouded my judgement, but the truth would still be knocking on my conscience the deafening sound like a 4 year olds attempt at keeping a beat on the drums.
The truth is and was even before I claimed it and stood in admittance, I was drawn to mystery, to danger, in fact I found comfort in it.
Comfort in danger? Kind of redundant I know, but I felt alive when I was risking everything and nothing when I sat quietly tuning guitar strings in my bleeding fingertips.
I hated the calm and silent, though my friends claim I "ghost" Thats another story and I'll eventually get to it.
Back to my dolled up days, back to the burgundy hair and fishnets, the hooker boots and mini skirts, the drugs, the music, the world.
Underground at least....
Fact I was hurt...searching for numb in the lyrics, the sex.
Sex...such a small word for such a versitile thing as I learned in my dolled up years.
No two were the same, but they all reminded me of clammy unrelenting and uninvited hands and I'd snort the line to forget and attempt getting lost in pointless skin on flesh moments.
I've been with more men then I care to remember, many I don't remember, I forget.
I remember my dad yelling at me while I laid in bed at 5 pm trying to sleep off the drugs and the hauntings and zoning him out, his lips moved but I was deaf, in my mind he didn't understand the pain and it angered me that he tried.
I know it killed him watching his little girl disappearing and in her place a stranger dressed for drugs and boys...boys I didn't even like them that much. They were all fowl, disgusting creatures, but I fed them none the less, hoping that giving in would allow me forget the one thing I wished I could take back.
I remember when my hair was as blonde as my ignorance, the way I trusted without questioning....how I watched my friend who held my hand through my awkward years grow fangs and shred my flesh and innocence away while I laid helplessly tied to a bed sobbing and dying inside, begging for it to be over, gun to my head at times and I wanted the trigger to pull...better then living with the ghost of what happened to me.
I never understood why he let me go, why he didn't end It, knowing I'd identify him beyond reasonable doubt, that was until my dolled up days when I realized he wanted me to remember. He wanted me to be haunted.
I would always remember, the scars he left on my skin taunted me, but fear was corrosive and the drugs fained the healer in moments.
So as you can imagine my dress reflected my carelessness, I was branded like cattle always wearing a monster on my mind like fire burning my logical thinking.
In short I became the monster....dressed in fishnet feelings.
I wanted others to hurt the way I had, in truth no two pains are the same, and I knew that, but it gave me something to sink my claws into.
I wrapped myself in a pretty black trench coat and intrigued them with my knowledge.
Afterwards while we smoked, I'd dress slowly, quietly ash them out in the ash tray and head back to the hole and my head phones.
My closet hid me most days from the sunlight and I was a pale as the winter slush.
Now this will make me sound like a real bitch...but it is was it is, I didn't care less.
I got pleasure in walking away without an explanation, letting them think they reeled me in when they were just pawns in my game.
I hurt many, many begged for another chance...it was amusing to me that they thought they had one to begin with.
I wasn't me anymore, but a doll made up to attract the rejects that swarmed the concert halls and parking lots.
I could say this wasn't me, but facts are facts and at a time in my life this was me.
I didn't care who I hurt in my numbing, I didn't care about life or people, friends were a dime a dozen and if they didn't have what I craved they were replaceable.
Lost a lot of good friends on my ride to hell, family distanced themselves from me because I was an embarrassment...whatever that means...
Maybe because I staggered around, swaying, oblviously through life waiting for myself to disappear.
I was the reflection of what happened to me in my teens, letting an action kill me slowly and effortlessly.
The girl I became in the pain and aftermath, the scars I let bleed much longer then should have been allowed destroyed bridges and relationships and my sanity, I was a junkie plain and simple. No sugar coating here, I snorted to forget and have sex that I didn't even want with men that were easy to forget.
I don't happily admit that, but it feels good getting it off my chest.
Even after my rapists arrest I checked often for him to be paroled, because as we all know the time never adds up to the crime and good behavior warrants early release.
Disgusting our system and its technicalities.
He might as well have been released, he was when I tried to sleep baring his knife against my cheek, a threat to keep my screams firmly in my chest, but I'd wake screaming, cold sweat and no one knew enough of what I endured at his hands to comfort me even a little bit.
Perhaps the most damaging thing I carried with me from those days is a lack of trust.
Now we get to why I as my friends lovingly refer to it "ghost"...
I find myself questioning my own judgement often, after all it was that judgement that turned my life upside down in the first place.
Paranoia always plagues the back of my mind when I feed a friend a secret, wondering who they will pass it to and if it will become a big joke.
My problem has always been caring to much what others think. I guess that's why it took me until Im 30 to finally come clean and write you all the story of my life.
The Truth is I dont care anymore, somebody will judge, let them flash the ignorant card.
I trust to much, and care less, I am still haunted, but I'm working on putting my past behind me, to do that first I need to confess.
If the truth offends, I'm sorry not sorry, grow a pair, nobody is perfect and I'm not even close to it.
I'm proud of that!
Published 18th Nov 2018
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Anonymous
18th Nov 2018 10:42am
Brave to release such a stinging slab of confession. I applaud you.
18th Nov 2018 2:18pm
18th Nov 2018 11:05am
This is a very powerful write to dig deep into those layers and bring out such pain it would of been hard to write that’s for sure 😊
18th Nov 2018 2:18pm
18th Nov 2018 3:37pm
18th Nov 2018 3:41pm
23rd Nov 2018 5:07am
No More Secrets When You Mean It It Is Time To Scream It
Get It Out So You Can Speak About It And Tell It Like It Is...
And That Is Feeling Dealing With Death's Sweet Dark Kiss
And All The Pain That Remains You Can't Just Dismiss
Get It Out So You Can Speak About It And Tell It Like It Is...
And That Is Feeling Dealing With Death's Sweet Dark Kiss
And All The Pain That Remains You Can't Just Dismiss
23rd Nov 2018 7:15am
I think you can dismiss the pain once you've faced it head on. Thanks blackwolf
23rd Nov 2018 9:24pm
