I remember
walking drunk
like a robot in the dark
smelling like  a mix of sweat and whiskey
he stuck his hands inside of me
and wouldn't let go
and I cried
and screamed .

But my friend had left
and the world felt so dark
and it smelled like darkness,
its scenes in my mind
that I wish,
that I could erase,
all I could hear in my mind
are his words his smell
his body
a few moments of release
have mired in my mind
so much trauma
what I would give to erase my past
my moments of tortured silence
what's more is I hate the woman
who left me there
I hate her with a pain so deep
it feels like venom in my soul
similar to how my mother used to abuse me as a child
I wish my poetry
wouldn't sound good
when I write
I wish it could show you
how much I longed to slit my wrists
from the time I was a child
form the pain
that felt embedded in my soul
although life is much better now
I still sometimes meet men
who think that my body belongs to them
and each time the slightest touch
or stare or word
I feel so violated
I feel like I'd rather
be dead
than live another day as a woman
my whole life I have never wanted to be one
because of the violence
I have experienced
nevertheless I am working on accepting my body
my gender that I was born with
and working on healing my wounds
of violence that still feel so deep inside of me
I am choosing to treat myself  with so much love
may it out weight
the violence that I have experienced
and that all of the women before me have experienced
maybe instead of saying allow people to transition
we ask them why has the world become such a violent place
towards us women
that we don't wanna be women anymore
I know its a question I have  asked  myself
so often
and I still do

It first
started
as  a whisper in the night
in the dark
maybe just maybe
theres a way out
of this darkness
a light at the end of the tunnel
maybe just maybe
I can actually heal myself?
maybe just maybe
I can create a life
of my desire
and so with time she chose herself
over and over again
through her pain
through her sorrow
through all of the men who left her beaten
and broken off the side of the road
beaten beyond words beyond comprehension
how much the pain caused her
how much the violation the violence
broke her so deep
like shards of glass
tormenting her
insides ,
of  how the men hurting her
hurt her soul
broke her soul so deeply
that it felt like her heart would bleed
literal blood all of the time,
Through the sorrow
of other women choosing men over her
and throwing her into the arms of violent men
to be tortured by those men
yes I have lived through all of this and worse
and yet I have learned to choose myself
through it all
to stand tall
to not allow them to see you falter
so next time someone tells you
that you don't have choice
I say I beg to differ
humans always have a fking choice!

I have claimed my rightful place in this land
by the strength of my own two feet
and I choose healing
each day of my life
to heal myself for me
for my ancestors
and for all of those who come after me
although the journey is not done
I choose it for me
and for myself.

I feel so much pain inside
knowing that you are married
I literally couldn't see
how horrible you were to me
because you would mask it
with fake kindness
and because as a women
I was more trained to see that coming
from a man than from someone who was a close friend to me
you met me at such a vulnerable hard period of my life
I had just moved to a foreign country
I met you at a shabbat meal
we bonded over food
at first when we met
I was so attracted to you
I thought you were so beautiful to me
because in those moments you were .
We would go out drinking and partying
and although you were the religious one
you would party harder than me
I remember how so many times you would
leave me for dead
when we were around strange men
in the bars
and I would beg you to stay
to not leave me
I was so drunk I could barely move
and you didn't care
you only cared about having fun
and not about me
so because of you I experineced
so much violence.
I remember how I cried in those stairwells
begging him to stop
how I felt robotic
how you left me all the time
while promising to come back
how you would treat me like dirt
leave me on red
and make up some excuses for why
you are a shtty human ...
now honestly ,
You never once said I am sorry
until I begged it out of you,
you would talk to my roommates
who bullied me viciously,
became their friends
and even rented that apartment
in that house after I moved out
I saw that you got married
and although I would like to feel happy for you
all I feel for you is so much hate anger
and so much immense pain
I don't know why it took me so long
to see how much of a horrible person you are
a wolf in sheep's clothing
and soon you will move back here
and if I ever do see you again
I would love to spit in your face
and say Fk You!
No more to letting people walk all over me
and do as they please
I don't wanna care about being liked anymore
I'd rather be myself be safe and be around those
who actually see for who I am
instead of using me
for their own jealous gain.
Many times the ones who are the worst
are the ones closest to you
that you can't even see
now I am learning to trust the subtle red flags that I feel
when I meet someone so I don't meet a person like you again.

Time has passed, and you’d think I’d be over it by now,
But I still blast music in the shower to drown the memories out.
Can’t stand to be clean, but I don’t want to be *****.
Healing’s been so slow, and I am in a hurry,
Trying to feel like a whole human being
Find the places on my body that you haven’t been.
This landscape’s all mountains to climb when I long for the valleys
Of hips, knees, and skin that don’t feel like dark alleys.
I wear these scars like armor, but they don’t protect me from myself
Try to box up your images and put them on a shelf.
I lay awake at night alone in the dark
With visions of the marks you left- your own kind of art.
Telling myself I wouldn’t wish it on my friends,
Thinking in the quiet spaces the name that I would give,
And it’s hard to think about how used and empty that I feel
When I remember your literal blades made of steal.
You could always take what you wanted
Knew how to override a “No” leaving me feeling haunted.
I don’t feel safe at night when I go to sleep
Because even when I was unconscious, you couldn’t keep your hands off of me.
I shudder to think what kind of man you think you are
You said everyone was out to get you as if you weren’t the one leaving marks.
I struggle to tell my story out of embarrassment and shame
Am I just a product of your own twisted game?
I’d like to think someday the nightmares will be few and far between,
And my body won’t feel so much like a crime scene.
Until that day comes I keep it all locked inside,
Trying to lay down my weapons because I’m tired of the fight

one person said: "peace is nothing but illusion
all I want is retribution"
[from "Pure Power" by Zardonic]
that's something I can identify with, which is why
I decided to write this heap of lines
————————————————————————————————
on a shooting range in a boondock la[ɛ]nd
with gloves pU̲t on; sta[ɛ]nd
in front of an autocratic ruler chained
by his hands to two moola safes'
[greed]
handles looking way
like an old-fangled car directing wheel
[steering wheel]
have this die-hard fool restrained
so that he, more or less, is still
I'm not a scho[ɑ]lar who can wave
around a degree in the medics field
but it's obvi this high-hat dO̲U̲chebag's plagued
with megalomania in a neglected condition
but there's a dreadfully effectual treatment
and he'll get it like villains
quite a gruesome fate
is looming upon this power-befuddled ****
like darkened clouds that, beyo[ɑ]nd a doubt, are soon to rain
["dark end"]
like waveriders, he's go[ʌ]nna serve
["surf"]
as a punchbag for I'm in quite a mood to raze
gonna wI̲nd up as nada short
of a ****** loon today
like Battinson, clepe me Vengeance
but I'm more something like the Zorro-looking caped
anti-autocratic vigila[ɛ]nte
from the Norsefire-ruled UK
[V from "V For Vendetta"]
meets someone whose work field's tormenting
like victimizers who pertain
to LE in one tsar-sized off-putting state
[law enforcement]
you know, the one that's go[ɑ]t a putrid trait
of always posing as a side you shouldn't blame (it's all the West!)
now, let's go back to the foul autocrat
————————————————————————————————
like a snotty boss that you disdain
I give this f#cking no[ɑ]b a cool g'day
by douching him from a bo[ɑ]ttle full of straight-
-fro[ʌ]m-a-cooler H2O; just a fE̲w secs break
for him, & once it's U̲p, I ****** this base
creature fro[ʌ]m a stE̲wpot great
with **[ɑ]t-a## noodles aimed into this hU̲mbug's stupid face
[the "hang noodles on the ears" expression]
pepper it with some ground 7-po[ɑ]t to boost the taste
feel how I, like a husband who betrayed
his devoted, yet testy, wife, get rudely gazed
at, racked, beda[ɛ]mned (by who?)
by food-lacking men from Africla[ɛ]nd
[Africa]
ask him: "is the provided food okay?"
zero gratitU̲de displayed
all that comes from this swine's bazoo's complaint
but it's nO̲[ɑ]t that I'm surprised
a classic pro[ɑ]sperous gobshite
repeat the tactic priorly applied
using a bucket full of maroon red paint
[autocrats have blood on their hands, hence "maroon red paint"]
like that music producer famed for dull future bass
I put on his viscous head a **** bucket
[Marshmello]
whereafter pick a wedge up & drum it
[golf wedge]
and, like a heap, I barely get started
[worn-out car]
like an unprepped passenger on an insane car ride
with no seat restraints applied
he's about to have a way hard time
I'm a cosmetic surgeon that operates part-time
fix his blamed jawline in just twain sharp swipes
with a steel bat, then yield some keen slaps
that meet his kneecaps until the knees snap
like the Baba Yaga hitman detached
from his peaceful life by someone ge[ɪ]tting him mad
[John Wick]
get his nails removed
which is pretty much the same that you do
when you repaper a room
[wall nails]
having perforated his fingertips
I get 'em plastered
a few minutes later, I rip them things
off sim. to wax strips
he gets his phA̲[eɪ]lanxes smitten with
a freaking ratchet
[rathet wrench]
pro[ɑ]b'ly, he regrets that his bo[ɑ]dy's still not dead
pick U̲p a pistol, set a drum-like clip in, get
it cocked, then shoot lead around his silhouette
till the clip has zero ammunition left
seems like this once co[ɑ]cky piece of dreck
has gotten his khaki chinos wet
but if I've go[ɑ]t him in a sweat
like a summer jo[ɑ]gger being dressed
in venthole-deficient threads
for this brash dude, there's bad news
like me when I write some sick bloodshed
sadly for him, I've not finished yet (uh-uh)
like a runner who's go[ɑ]t some distance left
to complete, & it's not as dark as things can get
'cause, like the heroine o[ʌ]f M. Streep in "Death
Becomes Her" after falling fro[ʌ]m that string of steps
I've got a somewhat twisted head
[that staircase fall scene with Madeline Ashton]
so consider this as an insult-to-inju[—]ry sesh
————————————————————————————————
grab a brace of scissors
for garden mainte[—]nance; Richard
****** Trager's here ta
get his skills of surgery trained; begin ta
amputate this creature's half-dilapidated fingers
operate at leisure getting 'em disarticulated I̲nto
twenty eight **** pieces
and cauterizing the remains with illuminated cI̲gars
fling into his piggish face some tissues
and some pain relievers
tell this nazissistic patient: "hE̲A̲l up"
["****" in the sense of being "severely intolerant or dictatorial"]
let him relax for eighteen minutes
over the spa[ɛ]n of whI̲ch I put on play "La Chica
Rockabilly" & some other ro[ɑ]ckabilly
jams to make the whole vibe a mite less grisly
like an NA brown bear that is gravely injured
["mightless grizzly"; North American]
(as, in fact, this tragic-fated bleeder)
whereafter spray him with a
["wither"]
can of gas & make his dicta—torial a## go ablaze akin ta
a straw-fabricated figure
during gala days at the late of winter
[Maslenitsa effigy]
telling this piece of trash: "in case you wI̲[ɪ]nd up
in somewhat of Hades, give a
warm shalom to the infamous ******"
consider this autocratic **** a sugar daddy's skirt
'cause he's gotten what he was asking for
————————————————————————————————
oh, & one thing more to say: the
nullified, like ruler's presiding terms, dictator
was known among some as "toilet sprayer"
like a scuttered urinator

I am his punching bag,
he punches me at will,
he punches me to vent his anger,
he does so to douse his frustrations.
He tries to regulate my emotions,
he entrenches himself fastidiously
in my life's branches.

My constant battery is his love's
justification.
To him, none else could care better,
not even my own sacrificial mum.
In my secular and public life,
his raging jealousy is hardly concealed.
I am his only mood swing's spectator,
I am enslaved by regular and
suicidal threats.
I must to his own will remain subservient
for my own dear children's survival.
Not even my domestic pets are spared.
My movement is restrained, every
friend of mine is a suspect,
and my conversations are thoroughly
scrutinized.
His watchful eyes are never exhausted
by prying.
He makes my life a world of suspicion
and espionage.
My conscience is daily by blame overwhelmed.
I am worthless and hardly esteemed, and can on
none else rely.
I have no better friend or acquaintance than him.
My inferior gender is a social stigma,
hence I am closeted with his unquestionable
desires.

I must please him to the utmost
with my food, chores and body;
My meals must sate his insatiable appetite
with the very best cuisines of his choice.
My house chores must be flawless in dexterity
for his perfectionist requests to please.
At bed time my **** and body curves
must gratify and gratify his ****** proclivities,
even at my own very expense.