To Keep Up Appearances, I Stomp My

Puke And Starve And Cut And Drink Because You Don't Want To Feel Any Of This. Puke And Starve And Cut And Drink Because You Need An Anesthetic And It Works. For Awhile. But Then The Anesthetic Turns Into Poison And By Then It's To Late Because You Are Maintaining It Now,straight Into Your Soul. It Is Rotting You And You Can't Stop.

I Showed Her How I'd Been Making Tiny Cuts In My Skin To Let The Badness And The Pain Leak Out. They Were Shallow At First, And Short, Like Claw Marks Made By A Desperate Cat That Wanted To Hid Under The Front Porch. Cutting Pain Was A Different Flavor Of Hurt. It Made It Easier Not To Think About Having My Body And My Family And My Life Stolen, Made It Easier Not To Care.

This Is Wonderful, Wonderful! Be The Bird. You Are The Bird. Sacrifice Yourself To Abandoned Family Values.

Because I Am Still A Little Girl Who Believes In Santa And The Tooth Fairy And You.

He Doesn't See My Breasts Or My Waist Or My Hips. He Only Sees The Nightmare.