I don’t need kisses and hugs
all I need is just some drugs
it makes my pain go away
like everyday
ever since I was thirteen
ran away
tired of being molested
mommy was gay
like daddy was straight
as they both sucked on my pussy
made me suck his penis
and then her clitoris
WHAT THE FUCK
I can’t live like this!
I’m ashamed to say this
spilling my guts cyber Hara-kiri style
go ahead and laugh at me for awhile
it can’t hurt more than the first few times screaming
both holes bleeding like my tears falling every night
laying in bed praying
please make it stop
wake up screaming
oh god!
I wish I never wake up again
please chop my head off
my invisible friend above
I wish I was brave enough
to bite it all off
because my life’s all fucked up
I might as well hang myself
but I’ve learned to love myself
with drugs
so I don’t need kisses and hugs
form anyone else
just shrug
and keep on walking
coz I got my drugs
on
as I hug myself hold dear
and run
hands trapped under my armpits
as if it’s getting nippy out here kid
even though I’m living in hell
over there
my body’s up for sale
all night long
heads or tail?
drugs
I love you
any kind will do
but I prefer cocaine it’s true
I don’t sleep for days even though I’ve been drinking
when I combine it with crystal meth
I get psychotic
I see things
and hearing voices in my head
getting paranoid
pacing back and forth
looking out the window for police
in some cheesy mote
snorting coke
yeah you really don’t know me
especially when I’m speeding down the memory lane
into high ways of pain
living on the streets ever since thirteen
still selling myself to these same old men on my knees
now I’m fourteen
it’s funny how
it’s the same shit like I was at home living ‘alone’ sucking off daddy
as mommy’s watching pornography in three- D
fingering herself she’s getting off
later on she’ll be drunk and going to sleep
and laughing while dreaming
I know I’ve no real family really
for I was abandoned and forgotten into the system
and became it’s victim
left to those two sickos
preying on my ego
my self worth is an elf selling itself
is it worth it?
to be living a lie between heaven and hell
’cause I’m just a dying whore with AIDS
…….. and I’m pregnant!
She was the girl next door.
My neighbor.
My secret friend.
You’ve had your freedom for so long, until I’ve rediscovered you again. Gathering dust among my art collection as I was cleaning my attic with my feathers. Forgive me, for disturbing the dust and the cobwebs of your past haunting my memory as its jogging and picking up the pieces to fit the jigsaw right now………
The portrait of you sitting there on a chair near the window smiling radiant. Full of hope and bright future. And looking quite smug, actually. Even though I knew of your silent despair kept underneath the rug that hides the secret entrance in the floor
You were that girl all alone. Made fun of. Always getting picked on.
And I do apologize to your ghost to make amends. Repair the damage done so long ago in spiritual conformity.
My personal tribute to you in my own twisted ways knotted into a noose…..
to say good-bye, forever!
For I was one of those who’ve called you a skank and other not so nice things about you without really knowing you. Although, you lived right next door to me. Then one day, coincidentally, we met at the runaway shelter …… on the same day! We were like … “WHAT?” … “WHAT YOU DOING HERE?!”
Since we’re the only kids from Chicopee staying at the shelter in Springfield, we rode the city bus to get to our school. And we’d talk and walk together short cutting through the woods getting to know each other better. You weren’t a bad looking girl at all. But, for some reason ever since I’ve moved into the neighborhood a year ago, you were labeled a skank by all the popular kids in our junior high school. And there were rumors about your daddy molesting you……
“So, it was true! I’m so sorry, Renee. I really didn’t know. I was just going along with everybody to fit in. I fucking hate your father now! Never liked him anyway! And your mom’s a blind eyed bitch acting like she doesn’t know what’s going on! You should tell them(shelter) the truth why you really ran away. COME ON , RENEE!” That’s what I told her. And maybe I was a bit too emphatic because she ran away from the runaway shelter……. for good.
Never saw her again.
Years later I’ve bumped into her older brother, Doug. And he told me what happened to her. He basically told me that she was living on the streets selling herself to support her coke habit, and when she tried heroin for the first time ………. SHE NEVER WOKE UP!
Heron
is a phonetic avian pun
flying into casual handshakes
exchange
and
living on the streets of El Lay
to
N
Y
state of mind
down on the corners
of dilapidated buildings
with dirty corridors
done in graffiti
the concrete jungles of one’s skid row
row row your boat gently down the street
only for those felines curious enough to look into the eye of the psy-clop
the needle
sewing their eyes shut
descending into its bottomless pit
through those thick headed skins
and into their bloody tributaries
slowing down every heart beat to a trickle
the body forgets to breathe
your eye lids are heavy
staring into the abyss
as the abyss is looking back at you calmly
for god is dead
and now
so are you
Prose
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Wow. What a ride. I was definitely unprepared for the amount of swampy drowning moments this piece submerged me in.
I highly recommend a slam poem version.
Thank You V
OOPS. An error on my commentary. Which wasn’t much. Anyway, I Thank You for your recommendation for Slam poetry version, Mr. Well, sorry to say, I’m not much of a “stand up” type of a guy. But I do “type.” So I’ll stick with this type of platform to further swamp this site with my own style of creativity. BTW, although I’ve stretched the truth a bit, RENEE …..was real. R.I.P.( love you forever).
Thank you for telling a story that needs to be heard. It’s so raw and real. A lot of people can write beautiful prose but don’t have story to write (you can clearly do both!). The most powerful thing about this piece is that you give Renee the dignity that she deserves.
A suggestion: I think it would be alright to omit one of the paragraphs about yourself (the one that starts with “I’m an artist capable of camouflaging…”) because it diverts attention away from Renee’s life.
Thank you, Natalie. You know you’re absolutely right about omitting the paragraph explaining my style of writing…… so I did!
Too bad I can’t show and tell on this site. The portrait of Renee’s actually a pencil sketch. I’m a graphic artist who draw mostly with a mechanical pencil. Well, it was a long time ago when I was her best friend at the time, simply because she had no other friends. So sad she died like that. It’s so shocking whenever I hear about a friend who died before their time. Many of my friends have died from drug overdose. Meh? I still smoke weed, that’s all I do these days. Anyways, Thank you again, Natalie for your suggestion.
I figured out how to post a photo of my drawings. Yes, that’s Renee.
Thats amazing… and harsh. Thank you for sharing