zachblaine:

Revisited “Dear Forgiveness”

Enjoy :]

the-diary-of-a-writer:

Beautiful

They said I’d never be beautiful.
The words and worlds crawling into my fibers
Settling in the space between infinity,
They poisoned me
Like the last rat of the race that was never meant to be won. 

I have holes where wholes should be,
And my body is the broken jigsaw piece
That even the moon doesn’t want back,
His crescent form replicates on my face
But it’s the wrong way around.

They said I was a cesarean.
Clinging tightly to the hollows of my mother’s womb,
Finding a solace among stars of different strands.
Lost in the fabric of love that was made of not knowing-
I’ve never wanted to be in this world.  
But they excavated her skin, with their scalpels and second hand hope,
And tore me away from my roots like the scab settled on your surfaces.
It was bound to bleed.
My body, was violated before I was born.  

I grew and I moved a few degrees in this world,
But they traced me back to a broken girl.
With splinters in her smile,
And hollows in her eyes,
That told stories like crystal balls;
But never, never of the future. 

I have nightmares of my father’s palm,
I have the scars of his potential
Leaking down this filthy body
Like acid that tastes of every inch I wish I wasn’t,
That reminds me of the time I licked the sun.
I am the worthlessness after a strike,
And the yearning to just strike out.
I am the disgust I see in the mirror.
The reflection of far away perfection
Intercepted by reality. 

I am the creatures that crawl under my skin telling me 
On repeat
That I will never be enough 
That I will never be enough,
But the extra inches of this widened waist is already too much
To ever fit in the grasp of a loving hand.
I’m scared to wear sleeveless shirts
Because the boys they tell me that I am made of jelly.
And that all they see is my belly,
But I say, why can’t you see the hunger inside it-
The one that aches with the pain of being divided
And discected into body parts
Instead of fine art
and masterpieces.

They said I’d never be beautiful.
Because his hands pinned me up
And tore me down,
And roamed my body like spiders in the night.
I can still feel his breath on the back of my neck
His heart on the void of my chest
His claws on my breasts,
I can taste his tongue
Every time I breathe.
And so I’ve tried keeping these lungs empty,
And I go as far as the face of god
But gravity pulls me back, and I am that girl again.

They said I’d never be beautiful. 
I am abused, misused and confused
Made of cigarettes stains and empty veins
That meander through my being.

They said I’d never be beautiful
Never is now.  

(Source: alfaazkibarsaat, via halfsickofshadowslove)

andreaisace:

PAPER DOLLS
Sierra DeMulder

We are taught
from the moment we leave our pink nursery
that we are collapsable paper dolls
light to hold
easier to crumple.
that as women our worth lives secretly wrapped in lace and cotton panties
our fragility armored with pepper spray and mace, they say:
ONE IN TEN. ONE IN SIX. ONE IN THREE
women will be raped or sexually abused in their lifetime
and I am one of three daughters.

Now imagine: each victim is an acrobat
Her sanity, a balancing act
Our response is the unfailing safety net
We never expect to see her across the wire
You weren’t just violated, we tell her
You are an empty museum
A gutted monument to what used to hold so much worth
And with the best intentions we tell her to reclaim it,
Put a price tag on her rape and own it,
But don’t stand too tall, don’t act too strong
or we will name you denial, come back when you’re ready to crumble
Like your bones are made of chalk
You may only laugh cutely or cry beautifully
So cry beautifully
We will catch you

We are calling it theft
As if he could pluck open your ribs like cello strings
Pocket your breasts, steal what makes your heart flutter and tack its wings to his wall,
Some days you will feel dirty!
Some weeks you’ll remember how hard it is to breathe in public, like your heart beat is climbing to the attic of your throat only to suicide itself out on the pavement
But know this: the person who did this to you is broken, not you.
The person who did this to you is out there, somewhere choking on the glass of his chest,
it is a windshield, and his heartbeat is a baseball bat saying wreck this, wreck this

NOTHING WAS STOLEN FROM YOU.
Your body is not a hand-me-down
There is nothing that sits inside you holding your worth,
no locket that can be seen or touched, sucked from your stomach and left on the concrete
And I know it’s hard to feel perfect
when you can’t tell an Adam’s apple from a fist
because some ashtray of a man picked you to play his Eden.
but I will not
watch you
collapse.

(Source: fenice-argento, via utkatasana)

lovelyscentedghost:

Free

(first video recording)

unlearn-me:

Carrie Rudzinski performing “The Prayer” at Katie’s Cup Open Mic Night. 

(Source: arsenalhearted, via carrierudzinski)

lovebelikeawhirlwind:

Culturally-diversified biracial girl with

a small diamond nose ring and a pretty smile
poses besides the words
“Women Deserve Better”.

and I almost let her non-threatening grin
begin to infiltrate my psyche
until I read the unlikely small print
at the bottom of the ad:
Sponsored by the US Secretariat for Pro-Life Activities
and the Knights of Columbus

On a bus
in a city
with a population of 553,000,
4 teenage mothers on the bus with me,
1 Latina woman with 3 children under 3
and no signs of a daddy. 

One sixteen year old black girl
standing in 22-degree weather
with only a sweater
a book bag
and a bassinette,
with an infant that ain’t even four weeks yet
tell me that Yes ….
Women do deserve better.

Women deserve better
than public transportation rhetoric
from the same people who
won’t give that teenage mother
a ride to the next transit.
Won’t let you talk to their kids about safer sex
Have never had to listen as the door SLAMS
behind the man who adamantly says,
“That shit” ain’t his
leaving her to wonder how she’ll raise this kid.

Women deserve better
than the 300 dollars TANF and AFC
will provide that family of three
or the 6 dollar an hour job at KFC
with no benefits for her new baby
or the college degree she may never see
because you can’t have infants at the university

Women deserve better
than lip service paid for by politicians
who have no alternatives to abortion
though I am sure
right this moment one of their seventeen year old daughters
is sitting in a clinic lobby
sobbing quietly and anonymously
praying parents don’t find out
or will be waiting for mom to pick her up because research shows
that out-of-wedlock childbirth doesn’t look good on political polls and
Daddy ain’t having that.

Women deserve better
than backwards governmental policies
that don’t want to pay
for welfare for kids
or health care for kids
or child care for kids
Don’t want to pay living wages to working mothers,
Don’t want to make men who only want to be last night’s lovers
responsible for the semen they lay.

Flat out don’t want to pay for SHIT
but want to control the woman who’s having it.
Acting outraged at abortion.
Well I’m outraged
that they want us to believe
that they believe
that women deserve better.

The Vatican won’t prosecute pedophile priests
But I decide I’m not ready for motherhood
and it’s condemnation for me
These are the same people who won’t support
national condom distribution to prevent teenage pregnancy.
But women deserve better.

Women deserve better
than back-alley surgeries
that leave our wombs barren and empty.
Deserve better
than organizations bearing the name
of land-stealing racist rapists
funding million dollar campaigns on subway trains
with no money to give these women
while balding middle-aged white men
tell us what to do with our bodies
while they wage wars and kill other people’s babies

So maybe women deserve better
than propaganda and lies
to get into office
Propaganda and lies
to get into panties
to get out of court
to get out of paying child support

Get the fuck out of our decisions
and give us back our voice
Women do deserve better
Women deserve choice

auto reblog every time

(Source: hhallmarks, via leftwristrubytwist)

halfsickofshadowslove:

Smashed. My poem in a spoken way. 

Trigger warning. 

ommanipadmefuckit:

this is me. i’m too nervous to watch it back.

(Source: utkatasana)