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Image for the poem The dark art of a sometimes girlygirl, submissive, expunk-goth and almost poet with a penchant for self hatred...

The dark art of a sometimes girlygirl, submissive, expunk-goth and almost poet with a penchant for self hatred...

...(and other stories)  
 

It's taken years
[hard fought and battle torn]  
from first memoriesó to this very exhale  
with pen in hand  
to find even small-ish comfort
inside a skin
that should have always been  
my safe home of harbored self security,  
abundant in it's wellspring of healthy current  
 
"Oh to dream dreams as that once, little girl"  
 
Honest as these thoughts are  
and as I will the words to be,  
sort of scouring clean
my humanity en prose,  
it's not the whole truth of it  
when haunted cringes
worthy of the finest self-hatred  
still randomly  
plague and poke  
their particular echoed torment
piercing hard  
rebreaking brittle bones
 
Even now, I crack open so easily  
shame and embarrassment spilling forth  
finding way
bubbling to the surface
through red angry scars
that even thousands of written words,  
seem to never fully heal
 
Leaks of boiling blood and marrow  
are an end result of 'a mother's love'  
 
Disoriented, losing myself  
hearing faint sounds- recognizing rot  
memories of awful name calling
slaps in the face, thighs, belly  
or any jiggly bit  
- to purposely tattoo reminder -  
 
Instantly changes me  
I watch as my inherited black blood
slowly escapes each tiny fissure
of tainted acid ache,  
burning a sad trail of total disappointment infused by inferior-ugly  
 
Oozing obsidian outrage  
breathing in pants  
like the rage dearly loves
as it breeds, growing  
taking control  
 
"I feel my chemical composition rapidly altering"  
 
At least I tell myself  
I have that super power.  
Skills learned in captivity, I muse  
Creating and recreating  
forcing, by will  
scabs to form and bones to heal
 
Etching hope into willed reality  
with each gloss, shade and contour  
colors dawn from blackest night  
born bursting the daylight  
a spectrum that opened  
the vastness of possibility
and the proof to makeover a dark identity  
 
 
 
In a full array of beauty that always laid beneath  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Author's Note
Because celebrating who you've become despite harsh obstacles can take on many colorful faces...

A majority stream of consciousness spill...

©Blu2022
Pic: Mine
Admiring the leaves clanging colors felt apropos
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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