This House of Cards

by Hannah Brown

  Crazy is the word a boy uses when he knows he’s in the wrong but is too ashamed to admit it. When he is so caught up in his ego he would rather have the flesh peeled from his bones, bit by bit, than admit the truth.

  Crazy is a coward inadvertently letting you know what he is. Crazy is a fools adjective. Crazy is a man who thinks manipulating a woman into submission makes him big and strong. That it is normal and there is no way she will ever rise up to strike him down.

  Crazy is you.

  I’m so glad we didn’t work out the way you were hoping we would, because I am a woman made of fire. I am the sun herself and I would have burned you up. I deserve more than a boy who does the bare minimum to be labeled a decent human being.

  I am glad we didn’t work out the way you wanted us to because choosing you would mean not choosing myself and goddamnit I deserve to choose myself this time.

  "you manipulate situations to get what you want from people."

  Letting those words be what you choose to believe

  when your own flesh and blood

  says she was touched by a man

  without her permission, is cowardly.

  It is the opposite of love,

  and I will never forgive you

  for refusing to take my side

  when I needed you most.

  dialogue

  Did you cut your hair?

  Yes.

  It looks nice.

  I know.

  Did you also know the

  polite response would

  have been to say thank you?

  No.

  the polite response

  would have been

  whatever the fuck

  I wanted to say

  because your opinion

  of my appearance

  wasn’t asked for and

  doesn’t mean shit.

  burning bones and fire tongues

  My bones are on fire.

  Burning with the passions of

  women born before me.

  Shaking with a vengeance

  meant to tear worlds apart

  and build new ones in their place.

  I will set this world on fire.

  Your miseries will be torched as the men

  who refused to step up are razed.

  They will wither in the hopeless consequences

  of their unforgivable acts,

  and I will not rest

  until an army of awe-inspiring women

  has risen from the ashes and is blessed

  to live in a world where no one dares

  suggest they swallow their fire tongues.

  It’s dusk. A couple of platonic friends stand in a messy canvas one of them has just finished painting.

  What do you think?

  It’s perfect.

  You’re not even looking at it!

  They are looking at each other

  I don’t have to be.

  Why not?

  Because

  I know you.

  I know what

  you’re capable of

  and I’ve seen

  firsthand how

  everything you

  touch turns

  to magic

  I want to be magic too

  thank you

  I’m still in shock from the way you pulled back the second I asked you to.

  thank you III

  You will always be the one who showed me saying no is not a punishable offense.

  soft

  I don’t know how to be soft anymore.

  How to watch the sunrise

  or smell the roses.

  I’m accustomed to sunsets

  starry nights and endings.

  My prayers are offered to the moon

  as tears run down my cheeks,

  and I am afraid these bones have found comfort

  in reckless abandonment and

  bathing in the ashes of everything I touch.

  because it's not my fault

  I want to apologize for the way this trauma has made me fumble with my words and flinch at every touch, but you won’t let me.

  the bees

  I’m letting a swarm of bees

  build their hives in my ears

  so I don’t have to hear the daggers

  you fling from your tongue

  ricochet off the knives in my back.

  I ask them to sting me repeatedly

  as rent for living in my space

  so I don’t have to feel the ache in my soul

  as you rearrange your schedule

  to make time for someone else,

  in a way you were never able to do for me.

  I wish I had the words to tell you

  this isn’t what loving someone should feel like.

  dialogue II

  You know, this is usually about the time

  a sane person would throw in the towel…

  Guess we better thank the Gods

  I’m batshit crazy.

  women are not objects

  My body is building a wall

  and I am not allowed to feel things.

  In an attempt to forget past traumas

  she is asking me to let her be hollow.

  Even if it is just for a moment,

  her bing would like a break

  from the memories ingrained in her flesh.

  Letting people in has become an impossible task.

  Telling someone how I’m really doing

  might as well be rocket science.

  My mind won’t let me forget the last time

  I told someone I was anything other than “good”.

  People seem to think I am an object

  something meant only for their enjoyment.

  The flesh my soul resides in has all too often

  been mistaken for that of a blow-up sex doll

  and I am growing tired of this sacrilege.

  you don't matter anymore

  It’s exhausting,

  letting you be my only source

  of inspiration.

  Everything I write is about you

  or the things you did to me.

  I’m sick of it.

  This is the end.

  From now on,

  I only write about the sun and stars.

  siren song

  They fail to realize that my skin is a thunderstorm.

  There is an ocean at her hips,

  and the memories of lost souls

  who have dirtied her shores

  will soon be washed away.

  Those who were daft enough to think

  they could make an entire ocean their own,

  will drown in the very thing they tried to conquer.

  Their breath will be silenced and their lungs filled

  with the salt they emptied into her as their bodies

  are ground to dust by the very waves

  they had the audacity to brag about commanding.

  if my body can't be mine, maybe it can be yours

  Drag your nails across my back.

  Make me bleed out all the ways

  those before you left me gutted

  when the went without a sound.

  Tear away the tattoos on my skin

  and kiss the bruises,

  making them your own.

  Do you know what hurts worse than being told you resemble your father?

  Having someone say they love you as they rearrange your bones to force themselves inside you.

  soft II

  I don’t know how to be soft anymore.

  How to look at art or

  admire anything other than

  burning buildings.

  Only shadows bring me comfort

  though, even that, is fleeting.

  Sunshine burns my skin

  and self control is a thing of the past.

  Coffee is saved for 11 pm

  self care mistaken for avoidance.

  I am letting myself rot
/>
  and it is the best decision ever made.

  never

  It’s not your fault.

  I never want you to feel this way again.

  You think too much. You feel too deeply

  That is precisely my calling in this life.

  To notice the little things you don’t,

  appreciate the beauty you refuse to see,

  and give life to all the dead parts;

  that aching in my chest.

  So that others may know

  they are not alone in this maze of hurt.

  So that they may hold my hand

  whenever comfort is needed

  i am

  Angel wings made of clouds

  Golden dragons etched into snow white skin

  Scorpions resting in palms

  Crowns of flowers dripping amber

  and eyes made of the burning embers

  that fall away from tongues set ablaze.

  is this the only way to live?

  I’m angry with you for never allowing my body to fully be mine.

  You gave me life and forbid me from making it my own.

  The four walls housing my soul belong to your God.

  This is the price I pay for the blessings he’s poured upon you.

  These are the shackles I wear to make you feel better about yourself.

  Soon I will belong to my husband.

  I will bear his children and support him emotionally

  because it is only fair and he is doing me a favor.

  It’s as if nobody cares what I want to do

  with my own skin and bones.

  Your mouths say one thing but your actions say another.

  find someone who loves you

  The worst thing about abusers is they aren’t always abusive. There are enough good days to balance out the bad and it’s almost too easy to feel guilty for focusing on the things that require improving, or speaking up for what you need. You’re not crazy for wanting more and you aren’t ungrateful for making your needs met. If a relationship is not mutually beneficial, it is not the one for you. Find someone who will make a continuous effort to give you everything you deserve without making it seem like a burden.

  america

  Fuck

  you and your ugly soul.

  Hands stained black

  with the ashes of witches burned

  mouths dusted with scorching blisters

  hideous proof of how you tried

  to ravage us still

  after setting our bodies aflame.

  Backs scarred with lashes

  intended for someone else

  minds poisoned by the screams

  of those you thought could be controlled.

  Bones paralyzed by the thing that sets us free.

  You will not live to regret

  this mess you’ve made.

  Please

  keep your thieving hands

  and stolen lands,

  we do not want them anymore.

  la fin

  You’ve always been right there

  armed with 150 possible solutions

  to whatever the problem may be.

  It’s a shame you’ve never thought

  to stop and ask what’s wrong.

  I stopped talking when you

  stopped pretending to listen.

  somewhere great

  My heart is almost whole again and

  I’m not sure where to go from here.

  "i'm sorry" will never be enough

  It is not my place to speak up about the atrocities you are forced to endure on a daily basis.

  So I will sit here quietly as you give a voice to all the ways my culture has mangled yours.

  I will stand beside you in the fight for rights and human decencies that should have been yours from the very beginning.

  I will hold you up if your legs give out,

  be a shoulder to cry on if you need a break, and I will lend a fist if it ever becomes too much for you to bear.

  koan

  I know I’ll miss you when you’re gone

  but I miss you while you’re here.

  I miss the person you claim to be.

  The one who stands by my side

  and makes bad times better.

  You’re not who you say you are

  I think leaving will make me feel better.

  it should not be disarming

  The way you seem to be more interested

  in getting to know me than having sex.

  How you never say it was my fault.

  That you still treat me the same.

  When you are gentle with me.

  hellraiser. trailblazer.

  Suppose I’m not supposed to let go of this.

  Suppose I’m meant

  to let the memory of what happened

  keep me awake at night because it is

  the light that will help

  guide others through the darkness.

  Suppose this was never about me,

  but the women

  I will raise from within their shadows

  and the change I will incite

  with all these fires I am starting.

  You are a good one.

  There is not a doubt in my mind.

  249

  America the great?

  No.

  America the cis-gendered able-bodied

  white man with a superiority complex

  Land of the free?

  No.

  Land of those who live in a constant state of fear

  and have been emotionally manipulated into believing

  these conditions are something to be grateful for.

  Home of the brave?

  No.

  Home of the children we keep in cages.

  Home of the children constantly being shot.

  Home of the children bred to be pawns in wars

  that have long since been over and were never ours to begin with

  is it still rape if...

  If you are not continuously saying yes, you are saying no.

  Consent can always be revoked.

  unwanted martyr

  Here is a man who would willingly

  take a bullet for the woman he loves.

  And over there is the woman

  who would never ask him to

  because she does not want the burden

  of that guilt resting on her shoulders

  it was never about you

  Do you think I pulled the skin off my body in private

  so you would not have to watch?

  Do you think I wrapped myself up in bandages

  and dressed these wounds on my own so you

  wouldn’t have to look at the wreckage he left behind?

  Do you think I up and left without saying a word

  because you had been a good friend?

  Are you really that daft?

  parent (N.)

  I. A person who hides the truth from you under the guise of protection

  II. Someone who pretends to be perfect and the end-all-be-all only to one day be revealed as anything but

  as pathetic as it may sound

  I’m letting myself believe

  that you are “the one”

  because right now

  it is the only thing

  holding me together

  I want this to last forever but

  nobody I love ever outlives me

  survivors guilt

  it should have been me

  Anyone who actually gives a damn about your well being won’t ask you not to report your abuser.

  savages III

  We remember the ways you’ve tried to make us afraid of you, the ways you thought you could keep us down. We have been keeping track of all the times you hurt us, sometimes leaving tally marks on our skin as proof. We are figuring out the tricks you think are okay to keep playing on us. We are listening to each other’s stories, picking each other up, bandi
ng together, and coming for you.