Turritopsis Nutricula (abuse poem from my book ‘things outside’)

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I guess I’ve never really loved it

I’ve shaved and smothered it

burned and cut it

either with a lover’s mouth
or
a buzzing toy 
I aptly named Hume

meaning…

“from the cave”

but never truly loved it

but now
I can’t keep my hands off it

I’m entitled to it

this chaos

this love that’s so damn altered, reformed, transformed, remodeled and stunning

it’s turned into something resembling
honey

i

t started at age 4

when he was left in charge

he and his wife

it started with a kiss

his tongue

my mouth

his hands

a tug

his cock

in me

forcing open

the only innocence

I’d ever get

after that

a haze
…

a cloud

dirty uniform

powdered milk

waiting for school to end

for the girls to stop scratching my face

for the girls to stop hating me

[it’s like they knew]

he’d lead me through crowds

through food vendors

buy me fruity ice and sticky sweets

to ease the pain

to help me 
forgive him

he’d pay the bus 
to take the old decrepit bumpy road home

holding my thigh

my heart

my purity 


“you’re my favourite”, he’d say

“mi favorite de todas.”

there were others

so many others 
I forget their names

[he always told us our parents knew]

I wish he’d stop loving me

fucking loving me

STOP

 FUCKING

 LOVING

 ME

so that I can love myself

[he killed the fuse inside me]

I can’t relay

in vivid detail how it happened

because honestly

I don’t remember

I did that purposely

to help my smile
 remain intact

I just remember the urge 
to touch it

to rub it

to make it feel

like he’d make it feel

impulsively

imagine

oversexed 
at age 5

like a tug

a tug

tug

tug

t u g g i n g at my core

begging 
to be let out 
into fresh air

“I’m suffocating!”

“I can’t breath!”

I need to do it, you see

I need to do 


T 
H 
I 
S

It has its own heartbeat

its own soul

it thinks outside itself

it’s not me anymore

the days turn to years

my hair grows past my ass

and my fingernails are red

it’s enflamed now

this button

this slit

but it hides
in cotton

in his hands

but there’s another kind of war going on

outside that dark house

with all us children still fighting the fight
 silently

there’s men 
walking around
 in dirty green uniforms

spitting and cursing

guarding our safety

even though 

I feel dirty 
and flawless

alive 
and dead

I wonder 
what it feels like

to have those metralletas

slung over sore shoulders

and a list of battles behind me

[oh, but I do]

I wanna go to the carnival

it’s in town now

and the clowns and the trapeze artists 
make everything better

it’s all make believe

they make everything better

but just like that

when it couldn’t get worse

it did indeed 
get better

I didn’t even pack

just the clothes on my back

left my toys 
and my memories
 behind 
in that house 
my father built

left my friends
 who would grow up to be
 something 
I would never recognize

I watched him grow smaller and smaller

as we drove away

 from the war

inside me

outside me

and down below

the wars
 that made this little girl

a woman

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