Be Near Me

I pulled away from Your love

Clung to my hurt

Made a bed for my pain

I stopped speaking to You

And found solace with my fear

Forgot how tenderly You hold me

Holding fast to my adulatory

My shame called me foolish for believing

That You could love a sinner like me

I started living in closets

And under beds

I thought of God as the one pushed on me midst measured skirts-to-the-middle-of-the-knees, two buttons on a polo shirt. Look good and no one will know you're hurting kind of god. He was looking over my shoulder waiting to find a reason to punish me.

A god made by fearful hands

And human minds

He's big, distant, and constantly disappointed in me

He was found right where I left him

Laying in a basket of broken dolls, razors, tube tops, and dirty jeans

The thought was lurking

Waiting for the past to find me

The god of my childhood found me again

With whip and chains

And the crushing sense of disappointment

Kept me hurting

Kept me wanting

I do not know where one died

And the Other was born

I believed it to be in coffee shops with books and prayers. It may have been on my knees, but I have a sense that God has been fighting with mine to set me free.

I forgot how You love to hold me

Clung to what I imaged you should be

And I am on my knees

My prayer is simple

Be near me

Death Has a Smell

Death has a smell

It dwelled between his fingers

In the toxic smoke resembling his breath

And out of his gaping wounds

Infected and bleeding onto my skin seeping dreams

Dreams leaking from glands built from baby dolls and tea parties

His hands were pinecones

Taking my skin as they pulled down my side

Rejected by the forest

Forsaken by nature

And what once harbored seeds for the ground

Is planting his destruction inside of my womb

His eyes

They stay with me

Speaking my name

In hoarse painful tones

Justice found disgust in his eyes

Turned a back to them

In the form of empty words

Buried under the tortured thought

Words remain… useless…

Sounds paint sympathy lightly

On heavy eyes crushing

The second finishing what the first left behind

They lay on my chest

Buried under my skin

Making their way to my heart

My perspective floated

Years have pushed me back… slowly

What am I seeing

After time

Floating, I saw his hands digging into my thighs

They broke like branches

And he tore my skin where he left depravity

The courage of a soldier

The bravery of martyrs

Begged fear to be cast aside

To look in those eyes

Laying frozen

Time had not healed my wounds

Time left all things behind

Moving selfishly

Telling me I could pick up the pieces

If my heart ever came to mean that much to me

Again

A phantom feeling

Taking years of pictures of the world

And painting them over

Darker and out of control

Always dangerously balancing between

I can control this…

And I can not control anything…

Constantly searching for

A point

The point ends with the words

Bastard remains quaint

Son of a bitch takes your spotlight and shifts

No, he will burn under spotlight

Skin dripping

Rape has been turned into poetry