Writing prompt -Scars
One scar I have is huge – it almost wraps all the way around my upper wrist -it is 2-3 cm wide. Indented, It reminds me of a dried upriver.
Before I continue…
Domestic abuse & Toxic relationships
Rape -NO means NO.
I’m going to state the obvious here.
Domestic violence is a relationship fucks about with your mental health, whether you love the person or not.
Toxic relationships have usually tipped me over into using shitty coping mechanisms like drinking too much, taking drugs, overdosing and not managing my medication or my eating disorder and Bipolar.
So back to the blood river scar.
One night- no
Another night of heavy drinking and arguing, I found me in a house -not mine- that looked like a slaughterhouse. all dirty browns. There was a rusty scent of blood impossible to ignore.
Every time I inhaled, the scent would drip down the back of my throat like a tap -I could taste it too.
I had mixed copious amounts of alcohol with my medication and all I remember is trying to push my ex away with my left hand ( I am left-handed), he grabbed my arm and I struggled back.
a massive shard of re-enforced window glass- barbered- poking out of my right arm.
the back of my exes legs and back running up the stairs.
WHERE IS THE ORANGE JUICE?
WHERE IS THE GLASS?
WHERE IS MY EX?
An arm coated thick with blood. I wear it like an accessory
Blood makes noise.
I hear screaming.
Ex reappears and tries to grab me.
I try to run away.
I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE.
Why is my ex naked?
In the middle of the street?
Rolling on the floor with me- trying to muffle my screams with his hand. Trying to stop me from running away...
MIND FUCKERY at its best.
“Look what you have done…” ex says.
6 hours later – location: hospital.
The doctor asks to speak with me in private. My ex doesn’t want to leave my side.
I don’t say anything. quack quack! quack quack! quack quack! the word on a loop…
“What happened?” he wants to know.
“We don’t know. We were drinking. I can’t remember. It was an accident.” my ex speaks for us.
My head bows down,it almost appears as if I am nodding. I can’t quite remember.
What I do remember feels like I have made it up, it is so detached from my mind and emotions. It is about as close to me as Pluto or Saturn.
3 days in hospital my ex never left my side.
Not even to go home to wash or brush his teeth.
I wasn’t alone- my mother was with us too.
I was high on morphine for the pain.
Why didn’t they operate sooner?
Did they want to monitor me?
three days later… I’m being wheeled on the hospital bed- away from the stale, coughing ward…
“countback with me from 10,” says the anaesthetist.
“ 10 , 9 ,8 ……“
“1”. my eyes burst open. I gasp a breath. It is like I’ve been living in a homemade sac filled with half shallow water and half air.
I look down at the artwork the surgeon has done.
No more blood.
re-stuffed re-patched, recovered,
by a micro surgical hand.
Back to the carnival freak show.
I enter his home – a massacre.
Dry blood everywhere.
If only it could serve as a reminder of what actually happened that night.
“I don’t remember” the ex says.
How can he and I not know?
Every time I look at my scar I am reminded of the chaos that was my life for 4 years.
This scar says –
This scar reminds me to NEVER be silent in the name of so-called love or a sense of loyalty to one who claimed to love me so much he would do anything to keep me.
When I left him, I did not take his threats seriously.
What he did next gave serious competition with the scar I see.
That everyone can see.
Toxic relationships result in a severe loss – sometimes that means your life.
Think carefully about what and who your life may include.
I was reborn again on the 06/05/2015.
The day the court ordered social services out of my life.
The day that my ex turned his back on me, is the day I realised I had been holding my breath for years.
I had forgotten how to breathe. I might have been dead- a wanderer.
06/05/2015 -I remembered not only how to breathe again but why.
Life -not just my own but that who is of me.
Life is precious
Life is my responsibility
Panic glares at them boots tossed near the scullery bin
Churns its stomach until it resembles a soiled salad
Brown shaded stemmed leaves.
A dice scarred thrice
The fourth Pleiades sister
Her face disfigured by a silhouette.
Speech dubbed over until she believes she is mute.
Declares her name as
The scarlet barnet.
Desperate to hold onto her last shred of dignity.
Shrouded into a solar
To luminosity dressed up
An impish grin inhabits incognisant skin.
Burnt bloody blisters
Advertising big lips
Still demanding to be heard.
What makes one positive push a negative
Then rebound ?
Perhaps its for effect….
The ribs don’t need a tickle
To denounce the bastardisation of the butterfly effect.
Resurrect naked infants born with the soul clap.
Pure child neglect.
Raised on a hellish platform.
High on emotion fuelled
Noxious Martians grappling to lead the IDM pack.
Heavens gates part way for Entities egos
Superior to the kaffirs*
Squelching about barefoot
Abandoning their groundwork stained blueprint.
Fingers retrace its outline with fear &
Garments unravel to the ground
Reveal a strangers foot clubbed into inhabiting an Acute Depressive
Hands sculpt into a perfect punch
Transforming into a knuckle bled fist.
Deafening decibels desperate to pump up the jam.
Distinguished from independent thought
Bedlams final safety net sets off.
Distinguished from the shame
Prophets betrayed my another divine kind.
How to love a self
By the seizures of our child?
It bear not the demeanour of a preacher
Sopranos forced to be overshadowed by a blues choir.
Doubt these creatures.
Those with eyes of a temptress.
Alpha romeos induced into crawling out of her womb
Thrust a pelvis
If merely to humour.
Break down the odds of
Blue blood runs yellow
Bloody piss takers.
Leave a heart
To the meaning of life.
Triggers free happy clappy believers