visit

how can i let sleep overtake my body and spirit
when i know the room across the hall has a monster in it
the very red haired one that i once bit
who the knowledge of his presence makes me wanna vomit
does it make any sense, does it even fit
that i haven't yet reached my limit
that i don't need someone to stay outside and "doorsit"
and guard me from him every second, every minute?

pressure

watch the teardrops slowly fall
i can't breath my lungs feel small
my heart pounds and thumps
hands shake so hard they jump
i'm not ready for this don't they know
but i should've learned ages ago
that though people really try
they just cannot understand my cries

stop

pain.
my heart hurts.
i wish i knew how to stop the pain.
but of course it hurts.
it's trying to punch out
its emotions
but
my ribs are getting
in the way.
just tell me how
to stop the pain.

reality check

some people struggle spiritually

in___a___very____public__way

you see their ups, you see their downs

every______single______day

but some people's struggles

are worse than what you think

you don't know (though you may think you do)

how low their minds really sink

what's going through their heads

while that uplifting song they're playing

or repeating the "chap" of a pshat

______________they heard or their face is hidden while praying...

what are the real words

________________images

_________________ thoughts

______________________floating through my mind

__________________when you look at me and say

__________________ how i'm so spiritually inclined?

you think i'm frum,

____________you think you know me,

well here's a reality check-

______________i'm buried much deeper than you can see

doomsday

(this poem is deliberately being put on the wrong date, to preserve my anonymity.)

lying in bed, all alone
trying to reach a friend on the phone
seems in lonely darkness i'll roam
cuz they're all simply not available or home
it's doomsday, my body's reaction's to groan
i try to quiet the inevitable moans
the prickling and tickling my skin and my bones
like i'm being run over with a fine toothed comb
and with with a needle and thread i'm being sewn
my body's being taken over, no longer my own
the pains won't stop with ice cream cones
or stretching and tugging on a piece of foam
as though the pain is set in stone...
will somebody, anybody soon be home,
and comfort me, tonight, over the phone?

Positive

I know that the pressure
won't be put to rest
until i pass this
positive writing test
so my dear friends
you're about to get your wish
my positive day
went something like this:
I got up on time
though I went to bed late,
found something to eat
so breakfast I ate
(even without Mrs. N's eggs)
got laundry done quickly and with ease,
went out for lunch with E
and finally got to see CT!
caught up on the phone and in text
with friends i haven't seen in a while,
"bonded" well with my mother,
this whole day with a smile!
Didn't panic once all day,
(although my heart did flutter)
not even one clonazapam-
and it's hours after supper!
and so my dear friends,
whaddaya say
to my positive poem
about my good day?
(and you know what?
I promise none
of this poem was sarcastic,
ok, everyone?)

can i feel?

can i feel?

why can't i cry?
why are my eyes
so stubbornly dry
however hard i try?

how can i read and remember the pain
inflicted by others and myself, just the same
and hear all the stories of our world gone insand?
why does it stop before entering my brain?

why am i so hard hearted and cold
reading and hearing stories, new and old,
and still sitting here, acting so "bold"
as the pain can't enter my soul?

how can i just sit here
with my eyes wide and stare
and act as though the pain isn't there?
will it even get me anywhere?

somebody, please, i beg of you ,
make me cry and see it through
show me what i know is true,
that i CAN feel, like the rest of you!

so you think the tears that you see
streaming down my face
are tears of pain and suffering
coming out from some hidden place?

my eyes can fool you easily
into thinking that this is so,
but more often than not the tears that you see
come from the frustration that grows.

when i feel like all the words i have
(and you can see that i have enough!)
can't really explain what i'm trying to say
to make people understand why things are so tough

the tears of pain, suffering and sadness
are still locked deep inside,
sometimes i wish they would be brave,
not feel the need to hide,

so somebody, please, i beg of you
make me cry and see it through
show me what i know is true,
that i CAN feel like the rest of you!

triggers

this is a really long one...not so poetic, even though i intended for it to be a poem...but it's one that i hope i'll be able to change many, many times!

some people wonder
why i keep crashing.
what triggers me?
well, here goes:

most men,
but especially men with red hair,
and a red beard makes it even worse.
red hair-in general-and if i find one on MY head?! you don't wanna know!

any body naked-boy or girl,
but boys are worse
any pictures or advertisements that have men or women who are not fully clothed

magazines at the cash register

tickling-it doesn't even have to be someone tickling me-
if i see someone tickling someone else...
even worse, a boy tickling a girl

a certain tone of laughter-i can't even describe it

dating stories
just the thought of dating.

any stories that mention abuse of any kind

people touching me
seeing any kind of touching between men and women,
boys and girls...
me touching my own body
any two parts of my body touching each other

ok, lets be real-
any mention of anything even connected to sex

getting undressed
showers and baths

lace underwear
night gowns
navy blue polo/t-shirts

hot dogs

lying down flat on my back,
or someone asking me to,
sometimes even seeing someone else flat on their back!
lying down flat on my stomach...
well, same as my back!

having any article of clothing around my neck
without my arms through the sleeves

walking anywhere at night
total darkness

not having immediate access to help when i need it

Girls Run Out So Slowly

bunkbeds
one specific spot in the living room of my house
one specific spot in the dining room of my house
any room that's set up exactly like mine was

closing my eyes

unlocked doors
locked doors

weddings

push ups

my "little" brother who looks like him
pictures of him, his wife or his kids
seeing him, his wife or his kids
his name
anyone with his name

spiders
alomost anything creepy-crawly, really

sleeping in other people's houses

changing diapers,
changing kids in general

kisses

public transportation
ads on trains and busses
car services

It

being drugged to fall asleep

flashbacks
memories
lack of memory

certain songs
hispanic music

footsteps in the dark

any hair on me
that's not attached to me

smells of certain foods cooking

hospitals

hugs-
even though dep inside,
i really want them

my period

swivel chairs

anniversary of The Explosion
and The Night Before
being up very late friday nights

metal spoons

socks without something covering the rest of my leg well

some biblical events...

i could go on, but...

hold my hand and understand

i need someone to understand me,
but not many people can.
i need someone to be here with me,
in my pain. just be here with me.
i don't really want them to understand.
the only way to understand is
to go through all
the pain
the suffering
the torture
the shame
the silence.
i don't want anyone to go through all of that.
but please,
somebody,
hold my hand,
hug me,
and understand
that you don't understand.
please, somebody...
somebody...
hug me and
hold my hand,
squeeze it gently
tell me
that it'll be alright
but please
understand
while holding
my hand
that my pain
needs to be worked through
in my own way
that the path i'm taking contains
a little from one way
a drop from another,
some support from one person...
understand
as you hold my hand
if you are
that someone who will,
that i can't really
be so different
from the way that i am
but i do need someone
to hug me, hold me
understand, and squeeze my hand

let me be!

forced myself up cuz you all said i must,
it didn't help me anyhow, i feel like a piece of dust,
with all of the crashing i've been doing, my mind has turned to rust,
feel like all the work i've done flew off in the wind's gusts.

i feel a huge knife splitting my head,
all i want to do now is lie down in bed,
but i've gotta be careful how i tread,
cuz you all have other plans for me instead.

please just hug me, hold me, let me vent and weep,
until i collapse on the bed in a heap,
and hopefully fall into a semi peaceful sleep,
cuz right now i feel like a really big creep!

the travels of my pains

putting together the pieces

woke up in the morning feeling fine,
got to work not so on time
everything's okay until [insert name i hate]
got into his "hit everyone" state
the closest teach there of course, was me
and i had to protect victim #3,
so i called his name (ouch) pulled him close to me
and he sat on my lap, ever so sweetly.
wouldn't have been so bad, but to keep him separate from the other kids,
he stayed alone with me as i filled the garbage to the lid.
Just me.
alone.
in a room.
with a kid.
[insert name]
who seems to have a violent streak, like "Jack."
All this time i practice breathing, and putting on an act.
Finally, he's gone, and i finish my cleaning,
head for the car, we're finally leaving,
but how do you fit 6 people in the back seat?
it was a very "touching" ride, i "loved" it! it was sweet!
came to my room, dropped down my stuff,
ready to rest after a day so rough,
and i guess with the name [insert] on my head for so long
it hit me so hard-my bed location's wrong!
i try to ignore that hit, to curl up there and get just a little rest,
but now with that perspective, my BED gets me stressed!
i'm falling and falling but not yet too deep,
take blankets, pillows, bear and phone, curl up in a ball to sleep
well, sleep came all right, to long and bad
because of the terrible nightmares i had.
i must have been thrashing around, it seems,
that as a result of my "wonderful" dreams,
two pillows, blanket, teddy and phone,
my suitcase, all the papers, found a new home,
jumped 1/2 a foot when i realized all right-
that the room was now dark, and i had no light!
never made it to the light switch, instead,
a random memory sent me curled up in a bed!
well maybe not so random, now that i can think
that's when i noticed the room layout again, and boy did my heart sink!
the bed i've been sleeping on, well all of them really,
are set up like my room was then, almost to a T!
i'm guessing that that's when i wrote "The Night Before,"
when some some sort of body memory sent me to the door!
i froze there in pain, could no longer move
how long i stood there? no one can prove.
most of this is really speculation,
and i'm not sure how i got into the next situation,
i think that right before i could dash out to the bathroom,
to wash away the dirty feeling that could lead to doom,
YB walked up the stairs and the opportunity was lost
cuz i got so scared then that it wasn't worth the cost
somehow i ended up curled on the closet floor,
forgetting to turn the light on first, like i meant to do before.
i don't know how long i was there, although
i do remember trying to calm my mind, from racing to and fro,
by doing what everyone tells me to-
breathe and breathe it through.
i thought if i banged hard enough C would hear,
if she came the darkness could quickly disappear
but C couldn't come, and i continued to lie,
cuz i needed the light to get up, don't think i didn't try!
i tried a few times to undo my ball,
but every time a sound or movement made me fall
back to the floor and curled up in fear,
until Mrs N rescued me from my despair!

The Night Before

The Night Before
house is dark
everyone is sleeping
the door opens
for one short moment
I open my eyes
I say "what?"
He says nothing. Just breathes. I see his face.
I can't look. I'm confused.
I close my eyes.


I don't know what happened in the time he was there.
I never heard the door open again, or close again that night, but in the morning, he was gone. Until he
walked in and
The Explosion happened.

Stories

Each story i hear
about any other person
going through something
similar to me
makes me wonder again-

how?
how can people be so
cruel, so sick?
how can we survive
over and over?

why?
why do they do it
over and over to
people they should
love and care for?

what?
what can i do
to overcome the pain,
when i feel like
i've tried everything
there is?
what can be done
to educate frum girls,
when they're still young
so maybe, just maybe
some girls will be saved?

when?
when will i truly
feel like i'm moving
along the path to heal?
when will people
stop judging me,
and giving me useless
advice, without knowing
a thing?

where?
where can i go
to really be far away
from the sick,
warped people
who molest and abuse?
where can i go
to hide from the pain?

who?
who can really know
that we'll all heal?
all us people,
who are filled with pain?

I should

I should lie down
and go to sleep
but up my arms
and back spiders creep.

I should lie down
and rest my head
but thoughts whirl
inside, spinning instead.

i should lie down
and close my eyes
but who knows what
I'll see inside?

I should lie down
let my pencil drop
but who knows when
my mind will stop?

I should lie down
breathing slowly and soft
but when does that ever
happen? not oft!

I should lie down
my teddy clutch
but I berate myself
for needing this crutch...

I should lie down
and shut off my phone
but then I'll feel
so utterly alone.

I should lie down
and go to sleep...
but up my arms
and back spiders creep.

Fear II

Standing at the table

getting something to eat

a sudden sound behind me-

FREEZE

TURN

nothing to be afraid of-

BREATH

Need the bathroom

really badly

but first-

TIPTOE
CHECK

no one's behind the curtain-

SHUT DOOR
LOCK

Sitting on the floor

quietly reading

an unexpected touch-

GASP
LOOK UP

only someone passing by-

SIGH

he and i

why am i the one
who feels the shame
when i really know
that he's to blame?

why is it that both
he and i have the same-
all over, a polished
untainted name?

why is it that
because of his acts
i've suffered for
years, and in fact-

been through therapists
galore-now's number nine
while he's moved on
with his life in this time?

whe does he have
three kids, a wife, a house,
while at the thought of marriage,
i run like a hunted mouse?

just because

my birthday.
the day i was born
the day i was doomed.
just because
i'm a girl
just because
i was born
he hated me
punished me
just because
i'm a girl
just because
i was born
i was doomed
from when he was 7
and i was just
a tiny baby
just because
i was a girl
just because
i was born
i was doomed.
just because.