YOU MADE ME, YOU MONSTER

every moment is spent with the trauma. I can’t get a moments peace. we eat breakfast together every morning & he’s there when I’m brushing my teeth.

I try so hard to shut the door & lock it, lock him out but locks on bedroom doors can’t keep out ghosts.

I read a suicide note of a man who was raped in childhood & I wondered, is plagerism still illegal if both parties are dead?

it’s not that I want to die, it’s that the trauma’s breath is so hot & thick on my neck that I can’t stand being alive.

he follows me everywhere I go. been to treatment twenty times & I still can’t shake him. they won’t let me talk about it until I’m not suicidal.

they don’t listen when I say I’m suicidal because of him.

I want to talk about the ache / grief / horror that survived all these years, I want to scream into the sky the ways I’ve been broken.

no one ever listens. that’s why it took years to escape & then once I did he still followed me to bed. to the bathroom. he still spoons me to sleep every night with

nails so sharp I never stop bleeding. don’t think I’ve ever lived in skin that’s not stained red. couldn’t even imagine.

does it just mean I get to keep my body?

SUCKED ALL LIFE FROM ME — WHAT DID YOU HAVE TO GAIN

BUT I AM MY ANTIDOTE AND I WILL THRIVE