Today was a day I gave too much of a damn,

About peoples responses, BELIEF,

To me sharing your REAL crimes from my head,

Lunch is Lorazepam and eggs

I’ll try rhyming out scars from the dead.

Self professed Batman, Superman,

Classy son of an Irish Clergyman,

Runner for freedom fighters Gang man

Ruffian posed as a gentleman.

Deep down a really bad man.

Sold me your mind, I was like a baby in a pram,

Your attendance at law school was actually a sham,

A range of stories you said,

Lost your hearing, dropped out of the programme?

Or was it your smashed up leg?

“Top student” on all the exams,

C’mon, it was dealing smack that got you slammed.

A Philosopher now with a hint of Pragmatism,

Selling thought as your own with dramatic fantasticism,

Hungry for non conformism and wisdom,

I succumbed to your fearsome system.

A Nile Crocodile,

Posed as a friendly dragon

18 years above my age,

Groomed me as your live in Madam,

Entranced in your poisonous chasm.

In your death I needed Shamanism.

Meandering down the Kings road, pastries and coffee

No idea that later I’d be face down with you on top of me

From rambling to being strangled

It was a life of conflicting angles.

A heavy, vicious punch to the face

Left me truly dismantled

But somehow you had me

I stayed, deluded and entangled

Looking like a mug shot for a movie,

My cami and knickers soaked in blood.

Instead of calling the police,

I asked the monster for a hug.

Infrequent it was that you handled me with care

I’d turn to lead when you fucked my body or pushed down my head,

If I winced or said it hurt or tried to pull away,

You thrust on as if I was dead,

A real woman’s devoted to her man’s needs in bed, hadn’t I heard you say?

No respect, no consent, no love in most of the events.

You’d conditioned me now, this was normal, my role,

To do my job regardless of inclination or pain or soul

And continue until you were ecstatically spent.

Then we had the theatre man,

Who liked me in black, silk, lace, leather, the whole shebang.

Worshipped me like a goddess and you were inferior scum.

Loved me to to berate you especially when about to cum.

Delighted to be on your knees,

Humiliated, balls kicked, squeezed,

My respect in the show knew no bounds.

You would beg just to touch my feet.

Black stockings, smoking a cigarette to flick on you, lipstick red.

You wanted me to hurt you now in all the ways your prior notification had said.

You asked for consent for every touch of my body on the chair or on the bed.

You said you knew you didn’t deserve it but obsequiously tried to earn it.

Such a performance to help you reach spectacular orgasm

Things messy, gross, unusual, dangerous, tiresome,

Another job, my service, to pay for the joy of having you, our unique union,

You so imaginative, so special, a mind of such fine fettle.

“A mind the size of a planet” you always said

You needed this you said. I was younger, less sophisticated in your verse,

That my pride hated so I continued to be manipulated and coerced,

Nothing was for me even when you wanted me on your face,

It was all at your timing and preference

I was completely at your deference

With the illusion of control

…..and then I had to clean up.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love sex, I’m not a prude,

But rape and servitude are not my sexy rude.

It was a bad day for me today. I’ve been treated very badly by his family. Shoving me out, and my daughter who adores them. Telling me I’m extremely mentally ill and they cant talk to me whilst I’m like this. In fact I have PTSD, a normal response to complex trauma, due to crimes inflicted by their family member.

I became immobilised by memories and despair. Someone said to me this morning eat healthy, take some gentle exercise. Breakfast was ice cream and cornflakes with jelly tots. My eating is really messed up since all this.

For a late lunch I thought I’d try harder and make some eggs but I also couldn’t take the mental onslaught anymore so I also needed some Lorazepam. I thought I’d try to write a poem where all the rhymes were with or close to eggs and lorazepam as that was lunch.

In some parts I’ve achieved it and in others got caught up in my story. I think I’ll do another one to address the emotional abuse. These are hard rhymes you know!