This is no poem

This boy,

Hes trying.
Hes trying to help me survive him, this, and the hell in its entirety.
Although I appreciate his assistence
and cant imagine doing things without his words and thoughts
I fear I am becoming too much.
And like everyone else
he will soon grow very tired.



I am learning to fix things on my own,
but my way isnt the most healthy
and seems to always serve to be the most self destructive.
But I try to escape myself, my injuries and my memories all too much.
My back is finally mostly healed.


P.S. Mother doesnt love me


I will actually write when I am closer to putting myself back together

What do you want from me?

You have the heaviest hands.





Im having problems.
Problems with my heart.
Im scared...
I wake up to my pulse in my ears
and sometimes feel as if the blood is running out of me.

At least now mum is allowing me to go to the doctor.
But now its becoming harder and harder to lie.

Its surprising that I am not better at this by now.


Doctors in general scare me.
Their hands are heavy as well...
they remind me of his,
of theirs.
Their fingers are cold, freezing, and make me shake.
He doesnt like the fact that I am 85 pounds.
He doesnt like the fact that I shake,
or do not look him in the eyes.
He sighs when I cry in front of him.

They are all sort of the same.


I do not and can not trust anyone.

Back, Forth, Back Back Forth.

Hope.
It seems to be hard for me to grasp these days.

Things have been different.
Changing.
Not necessarily good, or bad.
Just different.

Different faces, less faces, more control.
The monster all of a sudden decided he has a jealous factor.
Now there are less faces.


I have found it hard to eat lately.
Harder than usual.
I havent really had an appetite since Etienne left us, left me.
It became less when we moved to the states.
Less when the monster brainwashed my mother.
And now it doesnt exist.
Cannot be found.

Maybe it is because I try not to be seen.
Spend all day hibernating.
I have too much
I sort of forget about eating.

But I need to.
I need strength,
and lately I have had none.
Ischelle has just been shrinking,
shrinking and achieving disappearance.
The less I am, the less there is.
The less there is, the less can hurt.
Is this Ischelle giving up?

20lbs in 30 days
I need substance.

Im trying. Please believe me.

I have not forgotten about this site.
This site seems to be my only and little communication with the world,
and I appreciate you all probably more than you can guess.

I havent been around, and I apologize.
I havent even been at my house really.
I do not want to speak about it,
and there is nothing to really speak about.
I dont know how much longer I can do this.

Im trying.
This will change.
Things will get better.
Maybe soon enough I can be brave again,
spill my heart.

raw

This will be short, choppy and unedited.
I just need an outlet. Help me.


Aside from everyday people, old school peers and drunken men, showers also mock me.
I scrub and scrub and stand constantly under the water and can never feel clean enough...
and worst of all
I can never get their smell
mostly his smell off of me.

I just keep telling myself
its all in my head.

In the year 2007 I have:
showered 17 times
washed my clothes 9 times
washed my hair 10 times

it will never go away.

I have never learned to ask for help. Ive been so sad for so long and its getting to me.
I am in a constant tailspin, an awful descent.
Someday, somewhere it has to end.
It has to end.
It has to go away.
Someday I will write in ultimate past tense.

Someday I will be able to write that I once knew a wolf.
One who left scars with his claws and bruised my wrists.
He would whisper things in my ear, kiss me with his jagged teeth and tell me no one would ever own me but him.

I did the unthinkable. I cried. I cried so much as I cleaned my sheets. His fingers were always cold and his breath was hot and I seemed to learn silence and compliance quite quickly.

The predator would fall upon the throat of his prey, puncturing soft tissue and bone fragments. I lay still for hours underneath his weight, and feigned sleep but his hands tore me open in rough indifference.



This wolf, this haunting wolf only led to more.
They stick to their pack and share bad habits.
I knew more wolves after that, one in particular who liked me quiet and depleted. Who put his hands everywhere and looked me in the eyes way too much.
They all leave me the same way.

Laying on the living room floor devouring oxygen at mass speeds. I dont eat for days and the world always spins rapidly beneath my closed eyelids. I read about poets quite often and wonder if one day I will somehow be admired for these scarred wrists and frail breaking bones.

I doubt it.

Mother screams 'move on'
and I say 'I cant'
but she wont hear it.
She doesnt accept failure.

Dear mum,
Please dont leave me in the room alone with sharp objects.
I am limp and dying inside.


I feel as if I will always be running from something.



twirling before his new years party:
[which was filled with drunken men telling me to refill their brandy glasses]


"slut"

Happy Holidays

I lost my mind,
I completely forgot it was Christmas.
Happy Holidays - whichever you celebrate.
We dont celebrate any here...


I also apologize for my lack of...
'holiday spirit' as they call it.

But I have come upon a realization.
An epiphany if you will.

There are rules.
Certain rules that you must follow.
My mother introduced me to them as a young child.
You must follow these rules to survive, in ways such as mine.
You must become familiar with them, memorize them,
they are your guide to the finish line.
And if you are familiar with any of these rules
please feel free to identify.

I have come up with a some what appropriate label for these rules:


Fruit bruises, and so do girls.

.Remember who you belong to
and keep making excuses for them.
It may hurt but they are your lifeline, and they are all you have.
.Dont beg.
Begging gets you nowhere at all. And only shows weakness.
They dont like weakness.
.Learn to make pain your anesthetic.
Please just be productive. Its understandable that you are worthless, but at least try to prove them wrong in some way.
.Always talk in metaphors and riddles when people begin to ask questions.
Become a good liar, its all you have to survive. Its all you have to prove yourself.


.And most importantly, something you must not forget
as long as you live:
Never, under any circumstance, ever ask anyone to save you.

Horrid and short...Just something to say I am alive

"Be careful....
be careful,"
my conscience says...

for when you are approached in an alleyway by a familiar face
knees tend to hit the brick walls first.



protect yourself.
protect yourself.
protect yourself.


Family always finds you.
And they seem to always leave you contorted..
and lost within yourself.


I am lost.
No more counting.
No more running.
No more fighting.
No more interrupting....objecting.
No. More.





I am...
numb
numb
numb.