july 22.06

for the first time in years, i wrote poetry tonight.
i don't even know where it came from. it just did.
i haven't written a damn poetic thing since 98. since the squelching began.

and it's not poe, of course not. but it's mine.
i wanted to write a short story of the night i was brutally raped, when i was 18 years old.
because i know people are sick and we like stories like that. we like the violence and the force, even if it's in the darkest parts of ourselves and we won't outwardly admit it.
this is why the enquirer is still making money, people. cause we just can't stop wanting the grit.

it came out as poetry, this rape.
ironic, i suppose. that something so violent could be put to prose, something so degrading could be swept into a beautiful little rhyme.

so i'll put it here, cause well it's the first poetry i've written in years, and i will not shove it away into a closet as i did before.
it deserves the light of day.

When I was young.

When I was young and full of spite,
I hitch-hiked north of home one night.
The moon told me, a good idea,
Just stick your thumb out, there's a dear.

The van slowed down and opened door,
I met a man not known before.
He said "i'll take yah far an' wide,"
I smiled and thanked him for the ride.

Now being wild and being free,
I thought the drugs had fucked with me.
But judgement stood aside the road,
And left me 'lone, it watched me go.

The van slowed down, turned to a lot,
With streetlamps out and lights been shot.
The darkness seethed with his intent,
So out the door and ran, i went.

A moment there, i thought he'd gone,
But heavy hand hit hard and wrong.
Fist in hair of amber gold,
He dragged me 'cross the pavement cold.

When i was young and full of spite,
i kicked and screamed and bit that night.
I saw 4 souls just turn away,
And leave the end to fate that day.

The moon, she cried with much remorse,
For too late a warning of course.
He threw me in and slammed the door,
And innocence lived here no more .

When i was young and full of fear,
A man walked in and took what's dear.
Cracked open a head to shut a girl up,
And forcefully take what she wouldn't give up.

This girl became someone else that night,
To bear such a violent thing in spite.
Over again, smashing fists, tearing clothes,
Watching her blood run, her eyes finally closed.

When i was young and full of fire,
That man backed off, when he did expire.
Panting and heaving and lighting a smoke,
He smiled and offered one at me, the bloke.

I swam in my blood, the world was a haze,
And I pulled from something more primal that day.
I played his sick game, I smiled and I said,
Thank you, and hid the blood on my head.

He opened the door to the moonwashed night,
He offered 2 smokes, and matches to light.
I edged to the door, thinking still i would die,
He told me he would, now why would he lie?

When i was young and full of spite,
I lost something hitch-hiking north one night.
In return though i gained much beware,
Of men and the moon who whisper "come 'ere."

Fay-Lisa. 7.22.06