Attributes of the walking stick
hung around like charity shop clothing -
bagged and ready to go

It was a switch that had truely altered time again
(\ - this is not poetry it is gospel.)and a shower which managed to scrub off a few inches of the ***** dirt

a sectre of a cultural conversation
that stands for nothing
whether i'm ***** again ot not.

The chip shop gave me free water, and i just considered myself lucky at the time
but its starting to make me more suspicious now

and not in the way that i've seen my whole teenage and further years as a massive xenephobia crime made to seem more convincing through dehydration

We lie entwined in bed sheets,
Saturated with our sweat.
Pungent scents of *** and wet,
My lips still on your neck.
----------------------------------
Tracing streams of *****,
My tongue across your breast.
Your ***** swell is quick’ning,
My ****, your lips, our breath.
----------------------------------
Pelvis slowly thrusting,
Head swimming through your lips.
Hips bucking from desire,
Slit gliding shaft to tip.
----------------------------------
Chests are steady heaving,
Arms wrapped ‘round bodies drenched.
Hands groping ***** firmly,
Eyes closed our mouths enmeshed.
---------------------------------
Bodies met so many times,
Passion aching as before.
I need you, crave you, love you,
I lust you, even more.

When you were a kid, you had a favorite toy.
Be it a doll, a tiny truck, a car, a stuffy.
You did have one.

While you had one,
I was one.

I was played with.
Fed upon.
Made to be used and abused

Isn't it funny?
How some people are like like kids,
and Others are more like their pretty, little, shiny, toys.

"Oh mommy!" He would cry
"She is so pretty"
"So Cute"
"so wet..."

Malicious


I am not a toy
I am a real person
I am real

am I?

Don’t you dare tell me it’s love,
don’t you dare tell me it’s “just life”,
when you’ve never carried the weight of choice,
when you’ve never had hands force themselves,
when you’ve never looked at your own body and felt—
disgust, betrayal, rage—
for something that was never yours to begin with.
You’ve never been thirteen, shaking in a cold clinic waiting room,
heart hammering with fear that the world will hate you,
body carved open by guilt, by doubt,
the shame tattooed like a brand on your skin.
And you think you know what love is?
You never see the hidden scars,
the marks left by hands uninvited,
by voices saying “boys will be boys” while my voice is silenced,
a whisper swallowed by the same mouths that judge me
for what they took.
Is that justice? Is that your idea of freedom?

You sit in leather,
sign your names on paper
that ultimately becomes chains,
binding bodies you will never know,
dictating futures you will never know.
you preach protection,
you wrap us in a lie called love,
while you slice away autonomy,
carve out dignity,
turn our pain into a headline,
our lives into statistics.
you do not know what it’s like to flinch,
to walk home at night with keys clenched tight
like weapons, like armor,
you do not know what it’s like to wonder
if you’ll be believed,
if justice even has a name,
if freedom even has a face.

But it’s over now
It should have never even began
It was so long ago
Yet it feels like it was yesterday
Others have had it worse
And others have had it better
They didn’t mean it like that
What other way could they have meant it?
This will destroy my family
It has already destroyed you
They already walk on eggshells around me
The eggs that they broke in the first place
I was too much,
You were sick
I was weak
You were a child.
But they’re my parents, how could I not forgive them?
But you’re their kid, how could they do something unforgivable?
No one stopped it
No one knew
Who could I have gone to?
Those you have loved
They never even knew me
Because you never even let them
But it’s over now