SIMPLY ELABORATE blog

Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

we had to write about rape in my creative writing class a couple of weeks ago. i’ve been putting off posting this poem on here because it affected me too much to do it. i’ve finally done it. it’s here. not broken up, not one big long paragraph because HTML isn’t working. it’s just here.

waiting to be read. it was my first A in creative writing. i’d never gotten an A before. i had never thought my first creative writing assignment mark would come from this.

“enjoy”. as a disclaimer; it may be a little harsh for some people.

---

i smile
as i walk
home
wrap my winter
coat
around my waist
to strengthen
warmth

i hear
footsteps
but think
no different
than a fellow
scholar scurrying
to the heat
of home

i slow down
to let them
walk around
my slow pace
and realize
i should have
sped up
instead

my throat
clenches
in fear
with an unknown
arm
wrapped
around its
frailty

the familiar
surrounding
becomes
an open mouth
horror
fright
a forever
altered view

my feet drag
along the
asphalt
my fingers
entwine
with the
chainlinked fence
as one

i feel sweat
running down
my neck
i feel dizzy
my eyes
darting
about to
scream

stop

around my throat
is no arm
down my neck
is no sweat
against my throat
is metal
down my neck
is blood

just enough
he says
so you’ll be
scared enough
that i can feel it
but awake enough
so you can
too

it’s my
fault
i should have
listened
and walked the
other way
like mommy
always said

if i’d worn
pants
it would not
be so simple
to rip my tights
underneath
my kilt
right now

these things
i wish
as he becomes
the first
to cup my breast
to whisper dirty
thoughts
unwanted

i try
to look
remember
eyes
stubble
tattoo
breath
but i can’t

already
trying
to forget
the way he
used one finger
to trace
and then jam where
he shouldn’t

so numb
and clenched
in panic
hoping to
be enough
to resist
to no
avail

i’ve been
punctured
no other way
to describe
the feeling
of his
manhood
inside

i think
i’m crying
but i can’t
tell
i’m trying
to move away
the metal
deepens

stop

i can’t
breathe
but i’m not
sure
if i’m even
trying to
i just want it
to be done

he’s speaking
to me
like i care about
what he has
to say
moaning his
corrupt
happiness

my mind
changes
and i suddenly
want him
to slice
me open
to sweat out
my pain

thrashing
my body
trying to
entice him
to cut again
instead
he removes
himself

stop

comes closer
to my
face
and says
he’ll have to
shut me up
some other
way

i see it
in every form
of its
ugliness
of its
stiffness
i want to
rip it off

so he may
feel
something so
precious
taken from
him and
never
given back

his hand
on my chin
prying my
jaw open
i bite down
he throws my
skull in
retaliation

it’s unfair
that he gets
to retaliate
and i am
forced to
take it
just the way
he likes it

i don’t know
what he
expects me
to do
with his
organ
waiting to be
pleasured

do i look older
or experienced
does he think
i know what
to do
with this thing
sitting
there

about to
bite or
scrape
just something
to get it
out
he leans in
again

stop

don’t even
think of
playing a
little hero
he says
the metal
warm with
blood

suddenly
i hear
someone
not just
someone
a big hero
who just
walks by

doesn’t even
notice
but it’s
enough
to scare
his organ
his metal
away

i wait
until this
unknown
someone
continues past
and i
get up

and i
run
and i
run
and i
run
and i
run

stop

i feel alone
empty
no one understands
never will
in this hole
with a small opening
able to climb out
easily
but won’t
that means facing reality
confronting everything
that’s confusing
making the climb
unbearable
unmanagable
unwanted
though if i turn
see through the darkness
away from the opening
i can see you
not understanding
but waiting
to follow me out
when ready

© 2005 emilia farrace

I feel like crying. But I’ve got no tears.
I feel like writing. But I’ve got no thoughts.
I feel like screaming. But I’ve got no voice.
I feel like talking. But I’ve got no one to talk to.
I feel like sitting in silence. But I feel restless.
I feel like explaining. But I can’t.

There are just too many excuses that my feelings seem irrelevant.

lie. This has got to be my favourite poem I’ve ever written. I wrote it in May of 2004.

it’s you. I like this one too. I wrote this one in July of 2003. It obviously wasn’t “you”.

Let me know what you think.

“my eyes are slowing drifting
as exhaustion wears in
limbs loose and languishing
feeling the coldness of my skin

fatigue creeps up my thighs
as realization sets in
unable to heed the tired cries
from the mind within”

- what my brain is able to come up with on an hour of sleep to function for two days worth.

MSN nickname today: “the bags beneath my eyes don’t nearly compare to the thoughts behind them”