Wednesday, March 19, 2014

in charity, in the chair, i see

i tell marci

how i stopped

stopped living in 2010


smacking me in the mouth

not beating me

but slapping me so hard that sometimes

my lips bled cut on my teeth.

that after marisol toolworks was just more abuse

threatening me for reporting sexual, physical and mental abuse of clients

threatening me 

those poor defenseless, frightened, lashing-out geriatrics who can't see a leading to b

i'm their one line to defense but ambushed in meeting after meeting


for protecting even those i despise, knowing their first and last line of defense lies within me--

then cutting my teeth on real beatings

joe. like that fat kid at MSSD. the fatso everyone loved so blue and catatonic--

the blue eyes so many years apart--

and jeff, i can't trust, i shouldn't--trust--

david/zeus/resin so terrible at sex, but my first loving first happiness--

and jeff so wonderfully


i'm going to stop giving so much

and keep taking it all--

he expects as much

but truly

anything goes if it makes me come.

it's like he would miss me

but i would chirp

c'est la vie

antithetical but balanced. still--


in the throes

from my fearless throne i plead

"i love you"

but who?

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