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for putting me between a rock and
a rail of spikes that is by you
juxtaposed to my swollen, beating face.
Wrapping, wrapping a shoe lace
around my throat, to be a hanging puppet
to forget the future or my hippocampus -
cut by your eyes, waxed by your hand
and waning inside by the sun and moon.
Thank you from my heart to my head
for drinking me alive in the cold purple
of the 'hickies' I screamed against.
Because the yelp from my lips
is the cry of a cat turned dog
turned into a monster for your stories.
So thank you from my organs to my bones
for doing what you could to take this prick
of a stinger to my thalamus and spine.
I thought I wanted an anesthetized
limbic system but leave the frontal cortex.
Reality speaks to my every nerve:
I need these things to understand
why I should never speak with you.
Juxtaposed means 'placed next to'.
The Hippocampus is the center of the brain that controls memory.
Waxing and Waning refer to the moon - where waxing is when the visual of the moon is getting larger, waning is when it is getting smaller.
The Thalamus controls such things are emotion, sleep, hunger, hormones, and pain.
The Limbic System controls emotions and emotional hurt - the Frontal Cortex controls how the brain understands pain.
This poem might seem a little confusing. It's about my X, L. I wish I could forget her, just like I wish I could forget R. I want to remove from me all the things I have felt for her, and all of the things that she used to control me - my eating habits, my gender, my emotions. I wish I could erase the guilt and the emotional hurt that's left. However, in hindsight, I'm grateful in a strange way that she showed her worst side (as far as emotional abuse) after she broke up with me and tried to get me back... because if she hadn't been so cruel in the end, I wouldn't have seen what she was doing. It's also a matter of how she convinced some people that she was the innocent victim, that I was abandoning her when she broke up with me... and how I was just leading her on because she wouldn't let me have a normal friendship with her and tried to push me to further, even after I was dating someone else.
She'll make you wish you were a girl
because you wished you were a boy
and twist the cosmic swirl of smoke
into a hurricane.
They name those after girls, you know.
So you'll be befuddled and intertwined
with fishing wire, you see,
because how can a boy be hurt by a girl.
But she's a snake twice your size
and she'll cry if you don't let her
hit you, hit you, spin you around
in brown and blue pain.
She'll make you wish you were nothing
because you wished you were something
and tangle the connections of assumptions
about what it means.
Those don't mean anything, you know.
So you'll be pounding your bloodied fists
against your knees, you see,
because girls can hit boys but boys can't.
But she'll lie harder to see you -
she'll scream if you don't let her
win you, win you, break you down,
into a grey area of hurt.
Girls can be abusive too. Sometimes it's hard for people to see... through the manipulation. Because sometimes it seems, socially, women have the privilege to hurt a boy just because they're a boy... and as soon as he fights back, he is automatically in the wrong.
Copywrite Soulconstance aka Quin aka Me.
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