(I wrote this for my rapist, about my rape. I’ve always been tortured as to why psychopaths commit such heinous crimes and it’s my own attempt at understanding the psychology behind his actions)
My sweetest little psychopath,
let me ask this of you
who was it who put the ice water
in those vapid stringbean tunnels of your bulging veins cerulean blue under porcelain,
like arctic floes flowing beneath the pale rapist rapids of your skin for miles stretching like a mapped automaton,
the painted flag of your flat affected smile stirred by the zephyrs of your cigarette drifting savoring every midnight drag inhaled before your conquests your dark eyes burning like twin bitter coals in alleyways waiting to leave bite marks on virginal bone
you are numb, you are the iceman
you have transferred the infection of your frostbite to my lips to my lungs to my heart to that aching leper colony of my brain is there a god in you left to worship or did the Devil take hold
can you hear me, oh godless one,
how I scraped the songbook of my throat like a scratched album singing you hymns that night we fucked at your knifepoint slowly staving off your hurricanes in Alleluias and every broken hymn still tasting your saliva like strychnine and venom on the back of my bruised larynx,
my sweetest little psychopath,
let me ask of you
where did you stray
from birth was it the wires of your frontal lobes misshapen like crooked lattice fences twisted in the sadistic corridors of your skull was sour sweet to you,
did you emerge from the womb as an appliance disconnected from the wall outlet did no one bother to find you wading in waters of larceny in theft
constructing pipe bombs in your bedroom closet like an arsenal museum
in the formative years did they catch you gutting the carcasses of marmalade tabbies in the vacant clearing behind your childhood home tortured with pins and needles jammed in its spine a morbid dress rehearsal for the mutilation of my body of the bodies
of other girls stapled down beneath the archangels of your knees like tent pegs in your bed
this Girl Scout struggled like a midnight wolf fight for oxygen beneath your manhood,
when I was a child they told me I could become anything,
I did not know it would end up like this,
with the crossing of our paths like malicious constellations
did they call you a little Antichrist and stroke the empty throne where your halo ought to have been waiting for you to grow empathy like the regeneration of a severed lizard’s tail,
I will listen when did it begin, this transformation from soul to stone,
boy to man to self appointed demigod incarnate
was it your detached mother who did not hold you close at tram stations or let you drift like a wayward snowflake from her vision when you were lured away by the red hands of strangers into vans did you feel dirty that day
or was it your father who wed the bottle of moonshine and beat the shallow beaches of your adolescent muscles until they burst like swollen sausage casings like shells from the barrels of guns you held to your first victim’s head did she scream until you came like Kingdom come is there a god in you have left your Devil on my back,
if hell can freeze over, can it thaw then too in Alleluias in Canticles of the Sun hummed in raspy choirs of traumatized angels face down in brutalized bedroom sheets a thousand thread counts of penetration of weaving your sadistic fingers through the gold waves of my hair like a tormented artist tying nooses to his thumbs over unfinished novels,
You are numb, you are the iceman,
your frost settles in my bones still when you taught me how to kiss open mouthed with lit cigarettes hanging from your mouth like an abandoned fire escape holding my wrists hostage like the souls of unrepentant drifters in purgatory
I never carried your winter well,
when you were a child and they told you that you could be anything,
did you know,
you would end up like this?
My life is such a waste like what the hell am I even doing aside from dwelling on the past and feeling sorry for myself? What a stupid fucking existence this is.
my whole body is legit fucked up from rape. i want to run away.
Those moments where you get so self invalidating that you begin to tell yourself that your experience didn’t matter and doesn’t count and wasn’t bad and then you feel like you’ve wasted your whole life being upset over nothing.
Here’s an exceedingly melodramatic picture of me.
Sometimes I think about rape and all the years I’ve lost and I just want to cry.
Or I’ll literally start crying randomly. Or I’ll just lay down on the floor and sob.
Because I’m wasting my life on someone who doesn’t matter anymore and never did.