JUST A DOLL, ISN'T SHE?

under reconstruction

Veins are swelling with a sickly sweetness, the anxiety and anger thrash together in bed, choking each other in the sheets and I taste it, it's as distinct as the coppery blood slick in my mouth as I dig my teeth into my tongue, a gate to keep me sedated from my self, pacify me I beg of you knees broken before you before I say something heavy and hurtful, something that takes up space and cries and screams until I've emptied myself of it all. Puked it all out, wipe my mouth, shut my mouth then wash my hands good and clean and pure but it doesn't matter if they are red, itch and ache, I'll never be pure again.

What would I say if I could just say anything. Probably fuck off a lot more. Maybe feel guilty a lot less. I hate you for tearing this doll apart and I love you for thinking to make me perfect and I hate you for making me that doll, in that way, the way you wanted instead of what I could be. They left me all alone for so long just to ask were this hurt came from it spans across centuries a cycle of pain from mother to daughter, be better but don't think your better then me. My eyes are on them, hand raising up only to smack my hand down, push me down so they could stand taller and never ever remember what happened and always hate me for remembering everything I pray to forget.

I wasn't always this bitter, it's stretched me thinner and so they'll call me a sinner, a spinner, a spiral of a girl who was always pretending, a make believe world of her own where everyone loved her and no one died, no one ever had to leave.

A poliet smile adors her face, porcelain  and painted to perfection. It slips, shatters. Its my fault again. I keep pressing past silken skin, curtains of hair and bursting through the wires I set fires to what you thought of me. Oh how I hear the whines of boys masquerading men, how they weep, holding the anger of every-women-who-they-deemed-wronged-them like a loaded gun to the next girls head.

They want us docile or dead.

Day dreams dripping into wishes on every star, beautiful and bright. I belong to the sky. Not splayed out for a played out story, I'm not a pretty thing to put up. I won't sit in the kitchen forever. The moths will feast and fester, fine dinning on her clothes, as her fears cut her all up inside am I pretty on the outside? We all sit together at this table, fork and knife, eat her alive, a meal to remember. I remember walking out the door but pieces of my are on their plates even still.

I'll remember eventually to stop living in the past, there are no breaks for the broken. Not a rift in time, it will never stop for you.

Now it's this dolls turn to come alive and when she does, she dances, skips, flies to her best friend's bed also know as the safest place in the world besides showers. One of the few places she does not need to act out a scene, be a show, deal with bullshit. Be a good daughter, a role model, a child who listens, never speaks. They can be quiet now, I'm safe now. Her love is so serene, it always sings.

They say she's mad now, a pretty ugly girl. Not just another puppet with a pretty dress and dresses are not required here so-roses swelling to life aganist each other cherry stems spun into knots in-between kisses and moans, oh how I missed this, hands tugging sheets and twisting in eachothers hair. Its lightheaded, weightless, needing more of this bliss.

A nice girl wouldn't do this i can hear them cry but I push it away and pull her close, I care too much. This is true heaven, angel in arms, this is real love, real passion. I feel it in my heart, it dances with it so tenderly, who are you to say its sin? I am only human too.

"Doll, you're not supposed be braiding cherry stems with girls"

"Doll, you are supposed to love god, not girls."

Why can't you just love me for who I am instead of that damn doll you wanted me to be? I'm not some idea on paper to look nice, make you look nicer, I'm a person who deserves real love.

You are a empty cup and I will not pour another tear into your abyss of nonsense.