These are her dark days
She just doesn't know it yet
Her clothes are hanging off her
Her teeth are rotting in her mouth
She smells like a bum on the streets
She has cheap jug vodka in her backpack
Stuff called Wakkoff or Jakkoff to sound Russian
She's living with a crack dealer
Her last boyfriend sold her for crack
400 dollars worth but she don't know that
She wakes in the middle of the night with men
Men who joined her while she was passed out and sick
Her boyfriend sells her for smack as if she was a timeshare
He can't even get it up anymore
He just abuses her physically and mentally
She's always covered in bruises, cuts and shame
He tells her she deserved it and she generally agrees
She's also pregnant and has Hepatitis-C among other things
She needs to get to a meeting
But seriously, she is going to die soon
Her baby will most likely die before it gets air
She lives for the next rock or package of white light
She ignores what happens in the night
Blocks it out with thoughts of cutting and suicide
Cutting makes her feel pain as she feels nothing else
She doesn't feel the punches anymore
She doesn't feel any of the various penetrations
A wider alliance that leads to new roads beyond the limits, holding hands, jumping off walls into dark seclusion, cut off from the mainstream of most
intimate yearnings, I left my heart somewhere on the other side, I left all desire for good.
Clinging to naked thought, impossible tactics worked out for impossible means, this is the final moment of respite, the final page in the book, a
bitter challenge between old and new, with one last warning.
So what if you did tell me ? Would it make the dark days go away ?
Why don't you stay . . . here awhile . . . and really tell me ?
I don't want to know all of your secrets, just the things you want to tell.
Is it a dark day when we learn that each of us has faults ?
If we're not perfect are we going to hell ? (I'm not feeling well.) Tell ?
You are the sum total of all of your life's experiences. And sometimes . . .
you share that with me. And I become stronger because of your sharing . .
Meet me in the rain on the cliff overlooking our future.
Hold my hand.
Ah, . . . the dark days aren't so bad after all. I like it when we're one. Is .
. . .is . . that the . . sun ?
Don’t take my picture
Don’t take my soul
I’m not standing with the family
Who are these people ?
I can’t mock happy
These kids are killers
They torment me
Torture me when we’re alone
I’m not happy
Not going to stand with them
Send me to my room
Away from this doom
Unburied in their tomb of hate
There’s something wrong
They hate me because they hate you
Why are you so angry ?
So unhappy and bitter
Life not what you expected ?
Join the club
You’re not the sun Rita
Why am I you’re son Rita?
You hate yourself
You hate me
Hate runs in your family
You’re family has a plague
The plague of self hate
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