I tried to write this out in prose a few times. Failed. I also tried writing poetry but became discouraged when I could not create consecutive iambs. So I wrote this story in psuedo-poetic free verse. I am trying to get better with poetry so any critical advice is appreciated. Any questions or comments also appreciated.

I
the sun shines down on me
shirtless i walk with Him barefoot across the farm,
eight rabbits in all wait in their cage
i pick a black one, the biggest of the litter

they are domesticated
calm

i hold it like a baby walking back to the wall of the chicken coop
blue tarp now surrounds us
i feel trepidation but also excitement

two orange pieces of twine,
the kind the hold bales of hay together,
hang from the ceiling

the rabbit is still calm
happy
in familiar and friendly arms

He shows me he how to put its legs into the knots
i slowly and gently put each limb into the loops
quickly but gracefully the rabbit’s body falls down

it fights for a second
relaxes once i pull down on its ears
i am familiar; it calms

the knife
held in my right hand
with sudden force arcs from left to right

the severed head mouths silently for air
the rabbit does not understand
in what way it has just been betrayed

blood dapples my white chest
it washes off in the shower
and i feel clean

i feel proud that I did not fail Him;
He tells me He is impressed

the rabbit is now just meat
the meat sits in a slow cooker with herbs and vegetables.

II
the sun is still high
he drives me taking tight turns
that make the beer cans jingle

we laugh, reminded of the dangers of driving drunk
we crest a small hill as i open a can of budweiser for Him
the beer is sprayed throughout the cab

i quickly apologize but
He tells me not to worry
smiles
grabs my thigh and gives it a playful squeeze

my naked body jumps in the nahatlatch lake
after Him

again, He tells me he is proud.
i feel accepted,
loved,
& love

He tells me what stories He knows of the nahalatch
He talks about people who lived here before us colonizers came

i sense His wisdom
His compassion

i recognize i adore Him.
He grabs me
I am still half in the water
still naked

His mouth nestles into the crook of my neck,
i submit and giggle as He playfully bites me,
my body rushes with endorphins

i feel weak and
i still feel safe

we sit on the water's edge
drinking beer and eating hot dogs as the sun sets
i share more about my life

He knows everything now and still accepts me

He shares too
dark things and sad things
i still accept Him

III
i inhale deeply
the smell of the rabbit stew
the smell of a new home
even in my drunkenness i feel it

we both lie on the bed
silly and drunk
i love Him...
i love Him so much

i think about the psychotropics on the table downstairs
they never helped
He is helping
this farm away from everything is helping

we are cuddling and wrestling
His erect cock pokes at me

His knees begin to push my legs apart
i still hurt from last night
“you are too big”, i say
turning it into a compliment
so He can keep His pride

finally i give Him a playfull kiss on the lips
to show Him.
that i love Him.

He is pushing harder now
i say no again
put my hand on His chest

look Him in the eyes
show Him i’m not playing anymore

i am growing scared
my body betrays me

i feel my tailbone raising slightly
to prevent harm
and the pain that i already know

with sudden force He pushes in
His psoriasis covered cock rips me

my shoulders are now braced against the headboard
my neck bent awkwardly

i scream

He puts His hand over my mouth

i am hyperventilating
crying
drowning in open air with each thrust

He has shrunk me down from 6’3” to 3’6”
…this all happened before

i come to and He has me pinned down
He is crying

my head is lolled to the side
i realize i am staring at the cat
staring at me
from the corner of the bed
i realize i am being held

that He is crying

i have failed Him.
i begin to console Him
hoping He will accept me

i am crying for Him now
Please be better
Please, i am sorry!
Please. it wasn’t your fault!
Please…
i tell this as much to Him as to me.

He agrees
reminding us how He usually takes His retrovirals
that i should just relax
reminding us how my tailbone raised to greet Him
that i lied to Him

IV
He serves me a large bowl of stew
it tastes great i tell Him,
i smile

i am drunker now though.
i can’t taste the stew through,
not only the alcohol,
but also now ativan & weed

i still feel the pain though…
as blood begins to dapple my white underwear.

it wouldn’t wash off.



I have started to realize that this poem is actually something really important to me and is a large part of "my story". So instead of my doubting intro I will give it some context. I was sexually abused in adolescence in what was an escape from a neglectful home. I had money dropped off but that was it really.

Earlier this year, for a few reasons, my mental health started to nose dive and culminated in a brief episode in a psych ward.

I had met the guy describe above before any of this drama. We actually had sex one morning maybe a year ago, sex that I didn't have a panic attack with(hadn't happened in over a year). He kept inviting me up to his place that was a few hours away, but I was too nervous to go. After my psych ward visit while my world was collapsing he invited me again and I leaped on the chance. Our relationship started maybe 5-6 months ago and I finally cut ties about a month ago. I also finally got cleared to be HIV negative from doctor who superscribed me post-exposure retrovirals smile


Edited by Cthulhu (01/03/14 08:38 PM)
_________________________
“what matters most is how well you walk through the fire”
-Charles Bukowski

some context