Con troll me (Control)

I am struggling.

For reasons I can not control I find myself thinking of you.

And no matter how much I fight it I find that I do not have the ability to stop.

You.

Who used to feed me tasteless lies upon a platter

You.

Who used to bruise my body and scream “What’s the matter”???

As if my bleeding lips And busted up tongue

Could convey sweet words when I had none.

I should have seen it from the swastika on your chest.

You

Who hold yourself above the rest as if You

Yes you

Are a God among men

But I am lacking in faith and reasons

Once I begin to feel again I begin

To miss

You.

Who tore my dress because you said it was ugly

You.

Who blamed me for every cigarette burn and broken knobs on doors

You.

Who always swore it was my fault as you ripped my body apart.

You ripped my ravaged body apart…

And for reasons I can not control I find myself

Almost

Missing you

Yes

You

Who on our wedding day who made my legs a pretty shade of purple and blue.

You

Who called my job and told them I lied about the money that went missing that one night

Despite

Fucking despite

The fact that I was not even there

But you

Do you care?

As I struggle to find air around listless tress

Doctors and officers telling me that all will be ok

But it isn’t

It never will

Because you broke me

And made me feel a love so twisted and vicious that I become so fucking addicted

God am I so addicted

But it doesn’t matter anymore

Because I am now crawling in the floor begging for someone

Anyone

Knowing full well that it is you that I want

AND I FUCKING HATE IT!

I HATE me

But this lack of control gives me something to believe in

Because as I sit thinking of you

Yes you

Who nearly succeded in making me your wonton whore

I scream a little

While wishing for more.

Soo this is a rough draft. I do not like it at all but I forgot today was C so yea. Will post it anyways.

Just another blessing (Rough Draft)

I wanted him to hurt me.

I guess I had figured he would be enough. Tiny bruises on my body. Just enough so I know that I have been claimed. I wanted him to end me but he said that I would be ok. Just a smack here and there.

Words of contempt and rage.

I wanted my body to tell a story. One that forced my lovers to know me. But I guess it was all in vain since I ended up alone anyways.

Race wars

Parenting is one of the most difficult things in the world. You have this tiny person who depends on you. A person you must watch grow into this not so tiny adult. All the while you must feed them, clothe them, make sure they stay clean, house them, educate them, etc. At times they do not allow this to happen. They will fight you, and often times, they will win.
One popular belief is that your parenting style is already set in stone. It is your race that decides what kind of parent you are.

Latino/Mexican/Hispanic parents are absent. They tend to yell a lot and be a bit helicopterish but they are loving as well. They may lean towards abusive but in a way that their children joke about later in life. They are all about family. Not as accpeting of uniqueness. 

Caucasian America parents are smothering. They strive to be their childs friend first and a parent dead last. They are the fun ones. You can get away with murder. Literal murder and they would still root for your success. They are not smart and should not be trusted. This is due to the fact that they seem perfect but are quick to disown children. They do not value family but inside value appearance. 
Asian parents are prone to abuse. Like white families they have a tendency to disown their children for various means. They care more about work and grades then anything else. There is no time for fun with them.
Black parents are the poster child of abuse and neglectful parenting.  They do not care about their children at all. Actually they are pretty quick to beat them for looking the wrong way. Like the rest above they can have their good moment but it is so rare. They also value appearance but it goes hand and hand with strength. As long as you are not caught by those in charge, you can do anything. From selling drugs, being a bully, to outright mudering and torturing people. A black parent will protect their child at all cost all the while punishing them for being born. 

See these?

These are fucking sterotypes. But they are so ingrained into american society that we are ok with that. Black parents are already seen as a danger to their children well before they are even born. White families are seen to be a mistake. Perfect but still a mistake in the making. Asian parents are seen as though they are preparing for an academic war. Hispanic/Latino/Mexican parents are probably the only ones seen in a decent light but even they are assumed to be absent all the the time and abusive. 

These are stereotypes we allow to exsit. No one is trying to change then at all. 
I am a black mom to a biracial little girl. 

I admit I freaking suck at being a parent. She just went to bed today without dinner.

Why? 

Cause I took her to church and struggled to keep her entertained as she screamed her little head off every time someone dared look her way. Of course this was the last 30 mins or so. Still she pooped herself out, refused to eat dinner, and instead went to bed. 

I am not doing this with a guide. To me not eating before going to bed is horrible. 

But it is a mistake many parents make. 

I can tell you about one time my daughter went to take a poop. I guess she got lost cause she ended up going into her room and taking a giant shit in a bucket. She hid that bucket then went to wipe her butt. Since there was piss in her potty (yes she made it to the potty to pee) I assumed she farted in her room. I didn’t find the poop bucket to close to an hour after. I had sprayed something in her room to kill the smell. It worked for that hour but came back. So I went to investigate and saw the bucket. 

Now here is the part where most people would assume I went sterotype black on her mocha ass but I didn’t. Instead I sat her down and talked to her. I made her clean the bucket and she wasn’t allowed to play with toys for a few hours. 

I am a black parent but I am not a sterotype. I am not a statistic and my race should not condemn me as one. 

I know many parents would have spanked or even beat the shit out of their kids for that. Not me!

What is found above is how I have seen people describe each race and their parebting styles. Of course these are told to me by people who are bot of that race. If they are that race then they are joking about how they survived this or that. 

I mean yay you parent beat you euth an extention cord and you lived to see another day. Sucks to so though that others did not. 

Abuse is not funny at all.

Saying one race is a better parent is not right.
Your race doesn’t automatically win you parenting points. 

Your past, your surrounding,  your support system is what decides your parenting style. 

If you grew up in an abusive home it does not mean you will automatically be a horrible parent.  Nor does it mean you will automatically be a good parent. There are so many factors that are in play in deciding  your parenting style. So why the fucking superman do people think that race is one of them. 

I have met some wonderful parents and I have met some shitty parents. I can assure you that race wasn’t the decuding factor.

So…why is this ok? 

Why is it ok to sterotype someone as being a shit parent?  

Why is this normal and accepted by everyone?

I do not rightly know but it needs to stop. 

Murder, She wrote

I often find myself reading psychological books where people are forced to face some past demon. Maybe they were abused growing up or they witnessed something they shouldn’t have. Maybe they had a moment of weakness and it cost someone their life. I love this type of stories because they can bring me comfort or even force me to see things. When I see them I also get to read about how people overcame these obstacles and found something close to happiness.

Funny thing is that sometimes the main character may have to go seek professional help. They are diagnosed and if you, like me, love looking up mental illness, you can sometimes can an “Ah yep understandable” moment.

I recently had one where a man was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder.  In the story I read he was hurt as a child by his father and also watched as his father killed another little boy. His life was full of abuse even as he reached adulthood yet his quirks seemed so familiar to me. They were much like my own that before I even got to the chapter where he was diagnosed I started to question things.

He has this urge to paint, to tell his story. To finally undo this lie he was forced to keep. If he didn’t paint he would basically escape into himself and a ‘monster’ would take over. When that happened people were hurt bad.

The story was pretty much talking about his journey with overcoming it all and being able to love someone.  This was a psychological romance (m/m cause a duh) that left me crying.

It touched on things I have never even told my therapist for fear they would find me an unfit parent. How there are times when I feel like someone is watching me. They are so very angry. I know exactly who they are but I can’t tell anyone. Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night I can hear them talking (it is usually only one…or at least it has been since my daughter was born)

I know who she is and I know that with time I won’t feel her presence anymore.

I don’t know why it took a fictional book to help me realize that what I am going through is normal. I am pretty sure most would question my already fading sanity levels if I had told them.

But it is true. This book helped me a lot. I will probably never be as brave as this fictional character.  I will probably never have the type of love that they received either. Nor will I get the kind of support and dedication that I need to make it through this life as they did. I am not alone though.

Reading has always been something that saved me. I could focus on someone elses trouble for a while. My life isn’t perfect at all but it is my life. It may not make sense to believe this book helped me despite me writing as though I am helpless towards my future. I mean I do not think I have a future but this book did help me. I am not alone in what I feel.

My life isn’t some written fiction someone made up. I may not have the perfect ending to it but it is mine. In time my thoughts could change. But just knowing that I am not alone brings me a world of comfort.
There she follows

To and fro

A little girl I forget to know

Shackled to a hurtful past

She haunt my conscience so the pain will last

I regret the cause that brought her near

Regret the dreams I have grown to fear

The little girl who cases

To and fro

The little girl who won’t leave me alone

So I write her story

I write her song

I write all the way I have done her wrong

So that she may go to sleep another day

Until she is once again ready to play

*****************************************

The book that made me feel this way can be found here (via author website. She has a lot of other books that deal with some tough issues)

Or directly on amazon here

She is an amazing writer so check her out if you like m/m novels.

How to ignore those around you

CW: abuse, rape, children hurting. 

(Please be advised and head my warning. )

Father helped to poison me

As we build forts with bloody sheets.

Pile of pillows staind with tears

Turn on the radio

(It helps me pretend this isn’t real)

Loudly sing for all to hear

They smile at the sight we make

Daughter

Father

Picture so fake.

Daddy helped me to poison me

As I lay in bed looking at trees

Leaves sound out across the wall

Music playing down the hall

(I listen because it help me to sleep)

‘Take as long as you need’, they sing

Dancing not caring what midnight brings

Daughter

Father

A kiss goodnight

They ignore the screaming 

Music brings a new meaning

Louder, louder, louder

Teaches them to ignore

All the little girls cries

Behind the closed door.

Desperation

~Hate me for things I can not change

I give you premission

Only you 

Can you image the trauma you could put me through??? ~

CW abuse

What is it like to be abused by someone you love? By someone you hate?  I think many people could answer that question whole others can merely guess.

Would anyone even want to think about it. Surely no one does but that would be lying. There are those out there who crave pain.  No not the pain of someone who loves them but from those who feel the opposite. 

They crave the bruises of someone who can help them feel alive. 

Others can try to help them but what if they don’t want the help.

They are judged and hated without others knowing that it is those reactions that they want. 

So what do we do?

Petty Poet dialogue 

Explain in detail who I am ^-^ 

A petty poet

CW: Some people take job they don’t really want. They do it for the happiness of others. Sometimes these jobs cause them trouble. They suffer and are judged for their deeds while others are still seen in a graceful light. It isn’t fair. It is often hard to see if it is even worth it. 

Would you die for your child? I know I would. I would sell my very soul if it meant her happiness. She doesn’t seen to see the darkness I wade through for her. All she needs to do is enjoy her life. So many people hold jobs that bring them pain. 

Some people are forced to sell their very souls, their bodies even. Wouls you be willing to risk it all for your child? I know I would. 

Shame me more

Was once a petty little whore

Shoved by unholy hands

Fighting for remembrance 

Unvield face yet revealed lust

Shame me more

Always such a petty little whore

Filled with distrust

Take me to a place I can’t see

Hurt me until you’ve had your fill

Judge me more

Judge me still

Shame on me for trying to feel

Tried to stop but small hands grasp

Beg for more so it must last

Shame on me

For trying to surivive

Unholy hands fuck me through the night

Little smiling faces

One saving grace

Night filled with bloody passion 

So they may stay that way. 

Update: Still working on some stuff. Hopeing to finish my story soon. Well it will be a few short stories and a bunch of poems. I have an idea of what it will be about but right now I am just writing random stuff.

 I think I want to write about mental illness but abuse has been in my lately. I want to be the voice for those who have been told to shut up. 

Bathroom break

Sorry, sorry, someones in here

Please leave I will be just a minute

Wait outside while I wipe

Flush the toilet

And wash my hands

Thank you sir for waiting there

Oh excuse me, excuse me

Trying to get through

My daughter here is behind me to

Sorry sir say that again

Did you just say you wanted us to stay in

No sir, please sir, that’s not nice

My daughter is here and that just  isn’t right

Please sir MOVE

Let us through

We are done sir just let us go

Please sir stop grabbing me

It hurts so bad

My daughter watching

Just let us go, I won’t get mad

Won’t call the cops

Just play it off as a joke

Please no, NO Noo stop!!!!

Please kind sir that hurts so much

Turn your head baby please don’t watch

This man is sick

SIR THAT IS ENOUGH!!!

….

…..
Please sir, please. You have call for help

It hurts so much

I am in hell

My blood is covering my daughters hands

Please kind sir..she just doesn’t understand
Oh god my baby

BABY STOP WATCHING PLEASE

MOMMY IS SORRY

PLEASE BABY GIRL

PLEASE

I AM HERE HE WON’T HURT YOU TO

SIR PLEASE STOP

Run baby RUN!!

Step aside and think of it no more.

Sorry baby girl, mommy is now labeled a whore

12 months have passed since that faithful day.

12 months have passed since you ran away

Please stop crying hun

Mommy is sorry for dying

No more nightmares my love

I did my best

Protected from monsters

Tried to jest

Go to sleep, I will watch you, cover you back

Just remember baby girl

Never go to the bathroom alone

It is not safe.

Wake up a little later Pt2

Did you remember to smile today?

Place it gently on your face

Take a breathe

This is your chance

Make a believe 

It’s all in the past

Did you remember to smile today

As you clasp them in a blood filled embrace

Smile brightly 

Never let it go

Cause when you are gone

Your smile is all they will know
Bully me for a fee 

Don’t worry

I won’t tell the others of how you  made me bleed

I will hide it and let you smile

Beat me break me

They won’t know

Your smile is all they need to go on

Liars game 

Church halls fill

Pretending that your smile was real
~ He was so kind

Never a bad word

Always helpful

How could he go

He loved his wife

His children to

Such a sad place to me

Oh darling..so sorry for you~

They don’t know

They never will

Did you remember to smile today

Plaster it all over your bloody face

Don’t worry dear

These truths I would never spill

 Sealed inside me

Always silent 

Cause your smile

Was always so blinding.

Insta-gram

image

***Warning. This will touch on a very delicate subject for some and could be triggering. This deals with sexual abuse as a child. If you are unable to read about such things please skip over this post. I don’t write about this often so feel free to read my other stories. Thank you ****

As a child I was free
I didn’t have very many dreams
But I could dance and I could sing
I could be just about anything
I was poor though, no money in sight
I remember all those sleepless nights
All those times my family would fight
Trivial things in a child eyes
Things that could easily be solved
Just by being nice
But one day
Careless as can be
I was

Broken

Grace
Fully

I was held and I was hurt
I was told such hurtful words

What I craved

Was
Taken

Away

I become a slave

To there…

To that place

I was 8

When I first learned hate

I was 9

When I first wanted to die

I was 10

When I begin to sin

Cursing through my veins was insane
Try again
Try again
Try it again
I will hurt you
Cut you
Beat you
I will hate you with my whole being
I will make you as broken as me

My grandmother sat there
Heard and didn’t care
Gave me a warning
The night is was near
She knew
She knew

She fucking knew
His intent was to go deeper
But sweet revenge wouldn’t allow that
I was 8
The day I decided to kill a man
I was 9 when I had dreams about doing  it
Over
And over
And over again.

He is alive by the grace of God
He is alive because death would be
Should be
A treat

Suffer he now as time goes on
But

I suffer more
As ages past

I am 22 now
I hate my past
I hate so much
I want to die

I want to take
That putrid worms life

But

I can’t
I
Won’t

There is someone who needs me more.
So suffer the children who must make do

Who must go on
Live and be held by someone who alway knew.
Least time heals all wounds
Go on
Go
Go on
Time heals some wounds.