A lesson in juxt-positioning
Mexican jumping beans. I can't think of anything else. As a child I used to play with them and they used to topple and bounce and squirm about and it was fun. Hours of repetitive, mundane, innocent fun.
I was forced to the ground by that man in the mask. I don't know who he is or how he got into my appartment I'm scared of him and the knife he's holding to my skin. I'm squirming, I'm trying to get away. Children playing with ants under a magnifying-glass. I run, he laughs and I'm trapped. He's already cut me once. Cutting my eighth birthday ice-cream cake. Cold ice-cream on my tongue. The warm flesh of his. He ripped my clothes off and I'm trying to buck him off of me. Mexican jumping beans. He rides like I'm some sort of animal. Sheri, my sister, pony rides as children.
It's dark in the closet in the corner of the appartment. He's dragged me here and left me, hid me. Hide-and-go-seek... I'm curled in the closet. Hoping he doesn't remember where I always go to hide. The darkness soothes. The darkness stifels. I used to be alone in the dark places, now I'm afraid he'll come back, I'm afraid he's already two inches from my face, I'm afraid he'll surprise me and violate me again. Forcing stuffing into the turkey. Thanksgiving. I'm thankful to be alive.
Thank you for childhood memories, I can never look at another child again.
Thank you for innocence, having it meant I could have it stolen away.
Thank you for not killing me, you've left me to agonize and slowly die inside.
Thank you for Faith, it has told me I'm damned for not being able to forgive.
Thank you for listening, thank you for loving thank you for understanding.
The pain comes back no matter what I do.
Thanks... for nothing.
Edited 4/10/06
Mexican jumping beans. I can't think of anything else.
As a child I used to play with them and they used to topple and bounce and squirm about and it was fun. Hours of repetitive, mundane, innocent fun.
I was forced to the ground by that man in the mask. I don't know who he is or how he got into my appartment. I'm scared of him and the knife he's holding to my skin. I topple and bounce and squirm about, I'm trying to get away, this is not fun for me, but he is laughing. I close my eyes trying to escape within my mind... Children playing with ants under a magnifying-glass. I run, he laughs and I'm trapped within his glaring gaze and painful; it is painful. He's already cut me once. Eyes closed... Cutting my eighth birthday cake; it's an ice-cream cake. Cold ice-cream on my tongue. The hot flesh of his. He ripped my clothes off and I'm trying to throw him off of me. Mexican jumping beans. He rides like I'm some sort of animal. Sheri, my sister, pony rides as children.
It's dark in the closet in the corner of the appartment. He's dragged me here and left me, hid me. Hide-and-go-seek... I'm curled in the closet. Hoping Johnny doesn't remember where I always go to hide. The darkness soothes. The darkness stifels. I used to be alone in the dark places, now I'm afraid he'll come back, I'm afraid he's already two inches from my face. The clown that scared me in the haunted house when I was seven. I'm afraid he'll surprise me and violate me again. Forcing vegitables and stuffing into the turkey. Thanksgiving. I'm thankful to be alive.
Thank you for childhood memories, I can never look at another child again.
Thank you for innocence, having it meant I could have it stolen away.
Thank you for not killing me, you've left me to agonize and slowly die inside.
Thank you for Faith, it has told me I'm damned for not being able to forgive.
Thank you for listening, thank you for loving, thank you for understanding.
The pain comes back no matter what I do.
Thanks... for nothing.
I was forced to the ground by that man in the mask. I don't know who he is or how he got into my appartment I'm scared of him and the knife he's holding to my skin. I'm squirming, I'm trying to get away. Children playing with ants under a magnifying-glass. I run, he laughs and I'm trapped. He's already cut me once. Cutting my eighth birthday ice-cream cake. Cold ice-cream on my tongue. The warm flesh of his. He ripped my clothes off and I'm trying to buck him off of me. Mexican jumping beans. He rides like I'm some sort of animal. Sheri, my sister, pony rides as children.
It's dark in the closet in the corner of the appartment. He's dragged me here and left me, hid me. Hide-and-go-seek... I'm curled in the closet. Hoping he doesn't remember where I always go to hide. The darkness soothes. The darkness stifels. I used to be alone in the dark places, now I'm afraid he'll come back, I'm afraid he's already two inches from my face, I'm afraid he'll surprise me and violate me again. Forcing stuffing into the turkey. Thanksgiving. I'm thankful to be alive.
Thank you for childhood memories, I can never look at another child again.
Thank you for innocence, having it meant I could have it stolen away.
Thank you for not killing me, you've left me to agonize and slowly die inside.
Thank you for Faith, it has told me I'm damned for not being able to forgive.
Thank you for listening, thank you for loving thank you for understanding.
The pain comes back no matter what I do.
Thanks... for nothing.
Edited 4/10/06
Mexican jumping beans. I can't think of anything else.
As a child I used to play with them and they used to topple and bounce and squirm about and it was fun. Hours of repetitive, mundane, innocent fun.
I was forced to the ground by that man in the mask. I don't know who he is or how he got into my appartment. I'm scared of him and the knife he's holding to my skin. I topple and bounce and squirm about, I'm trying to get away, this is not fun for me, but he is laughing. I close my eyes trying to escape within my mind... Children playing with ants under a magnifying-glass. I run, he laughs and I'm trapped within his glaring gaze and painful; it is painful. He's already cut me once. Eyes closed... Cutting my eighth birthday cake; it's an ice-cream cake. Cold ice-cream on my tongue. The hot flesh of his. He ripped my clothes off and I'm trying to throw him off of me. Mexican jumping beans. He rides like I'm some sort of animal. Sheri, my sister, pony rides as children.
It's dark in the closet in the corner of the appartment. He's dragged me here and left me, hid me. Hide-and-go-seek... I'm curled in the closet. Hoping Johnny doesn't remember where I always go to hide. The darkness soothes. The darkness stifels. I used to be alone in the dark places, now I'm afraid he'll come back, I'm afraid he's already two inches from my face. The clown that scared me in the haunted house when I was seven. I'm afraid he'll surprise me and violate me again. Forcing vegitables and stuffing into the turkey. Thanksgiving. I'm thankful to be alive.
Thank you for childhood memories, I can never look at another child again.
Thank you for innocence, having it meant I could have it stolen away.
Thank you for not killing me, you've left me to agonize and slowly die inside.
Thank you for Faith, it has told me I'm damned for not being able to forgive.
Thank you for listening, thank you for loving, thank you for understanding.
The pain comes back no matter what I do.
Thanks... for nothing.
posted by Shannon Hollender @ 6:48 PM
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