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Becca Wedge' Profile

733869_10200837555964169_156594059_n
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733869_10200837555964169_156594059_n
(Icelandic Haiku)

Tied in red ribbons,
Silk woven through her soft flesh-
Her words, imprisoned.

Sealed with sour kisses,
Speech pushed back as if they were
Bloody-lipped secrets.

Left with nothing more
Than scissor-laced promises
And a hand-forced smile.
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733869_10200837555964169_156594059_n
That song replayed
As my heart was broken,
Friends were lost
And I hadn't spoken-

For quite a long time.
Lost within, I would think
About killing myself
As my family'd sink-

Into sleep for the night
But that song played again,
Then everything cleared up
And pieces would mend.

Inspiring me to live
Though I felt nothing
But pain every day,
It was small, yet still something.

So, when I feel shattered,
Down, beaten, defeated-
I replay that song.
It's worth having repeated.
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733869_10200837555964169_156594059_n
The music distorted and low in her ears
Throbs in her skull with each pound
Of the bass, but the pleasure of liquid
Gold chilling and warming her veins,
Is enough to ignore the empty self loathing.

Needles and pipes
Can't disguise loveless mourning
For the life that was lost when that
Needle first penetrated porcelain skin.

And the pills that she choked down
With liquor and discontent finally kick in.
Then the feeling begins.

Time drags and lags as she slumps in the corner.
Shimmering memories and crushed
Hopes of serenity fill and spill from her wandering
Forest greens marble eyes-

And she wonders if this life is worth that
Precious, overwhelming, disgracefully pleasurable
High that she craves, served with rust,  a needle
And heartbreaking shame.

Consistent and anxious pins of fatigue
Take the pleasure away from the diamonds she sees
As she floats in the sky when the belt wraps her arm
Pulled tight to her hole-punctured flesh
In the hopes of ultimate satisfaction...
Or death, if it takes her first.
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733869_10200837555964169_156594059_n
Tick-Tak
Tick-Tak

The clock is cruel to an insomniac
Ticking and Taking the hours away
As if hours were merely seconds to waste
And as I do, I lie wide awake
Listening to that incessant tick-tick-ticking!
It's driving me mad!
But Instead of dismounting the clock from the wall,
I simply keep listening.

Tick-Tak
Tick-Tak

I once had a dream in which the hour reached thirteen,
Though I can't recall if it were a reality or an illusion
Brought to my attention by a torturing lack of rest.
At this point, my sleep cycle is so wrecked and battered
That I've begun to see rainbows in ceiling tiles
And demons on each blade of the fan.

Tick-Tak
Tick-Tak

TICK-TAK
IT'S DRIVING ME MAD!
I can't stand this ticking
But the silence is deafening
Or crowded by whispers from every direction.
Haunted and happy for frightening me into sleeplessness.

Tick-Tak
It's 6 in the morning

Tick-Tak
Shower and ready for the day

Tick-Tak
Until my mind finally caves.

For the clock is cruel to an insomniac.
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733869_10200837555964169_156594059_n
'You're dumb'
'That's dumb'
'This is so dumb!'
... continued
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733869_10200837555964169_156594059_n
Figurative language means nothing anymore
People don't care
People don't enjoy it.
They call my poetry 'ranting'.

That's what they say.
That's what they think of
My out pour of life, love and sadness
My pain and my guilt
My frustrations and my pride
My joy and my lust,
To them, are all rantings.

Every little pain, struggle and anguish
Turned to blood, sweat, tears and courage
Painted on a canvas of fear
With a paintbrush of hopelessness all displayed for the world
To see and feel and give hope back
Yet.. they are spoken of as 'rantings'
They are nothing more than 'rantings'

If my feelings are rantings than I shall rant on
Until my lungs give out, until my heart caves in,
Until my very soul freezes and shatters under the crushing
Reality that my words mean nothing in the end
My words bleed NOTHING to them!
Because, after all..
They are only 'rantings'.
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733869_10200837555964169_156594059_n
Surrounded by women
Who speak beautiful words to the harsh aching ears
Of other women, who listen and grasp their ideals.
And focus on them too hard to the point where they
No longer see humanity.

Since when is it ok for a female to feel powerful
And for a male to have to stand down because of it?
Since when is it ok for a woman to say that a man
Can do crime that a woman cannot commit?

But I thought you were all mighty!
You're a woman!
You can do anything a man can do,
Well that is also true in the negative spaces!

Beautiful women, such beautiful women
And yet, I find them all unattractive.
Not for their gender
Not for they faces
But for the spirit that rots beneath flesh
And still finds its self superior in every
Way to ANY man, though she still tries
Desperately to find one.
To hold one.
To please one.

She continues to tell other women that they've been
Subject to brainwashing because she doesn't
Believe that a man can be raped as a woman can!
A man can't be abused as a woman can!
A man cannot BLEED as a woman can!

A beautiful woman who tells me that I must stand
Beside people she calls my 'sisters' and preaches
Constantly of equality that she cannot stand to
Give back to a person because they are male.

Gender is not a defining beauty or a disease!
Gender is not a shackle or chain that keeps you from
Being all you can be!
Gender is not a judgment on how you must live!
Gender is NOT a superiority complex tied with pink
And lavender ribbons and given to women as a gift
And to man as a curse because they are all HUMAN.

WE are all human.

You say you're proud to be a woman?

I say, I'd rather be human...
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733869_10200837555964169_156594059_n
People say that pain is a good thing.
That pain is an indicator-
A line drawn in the sand from which,
... continued
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733869_10200837555964169_156594059_n
(I had to repost it because It wouldn't publish all the way and I couldn't see any of my reviews.)

When will we stop?
... continued
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733869_10200837555964169_156594059_n
Question:
Just how do you want me to bleed?
On the floor?
In your arms?
How much do you need?

Question:
How long should I stay in my place-
Where you've
Held me captive
For your sick disgrace?

Question:
Do you hold me down out of guilt?
The cuts
And the scars
On this frame that you've built-
Aren't enough for you?

Must you pour blood from my veins
To feel
yourself smile?
To hide selfish disdain?
Give me an answer!

Do you want me to die
So that
You can feel
Like you've tried to survive?
Well you haven't!

You've blamed me for all your mistakes!
But I'll still
Live my life
Through the beatings I take-

'Cause it's worth it to me
To break from
Your grasp!
You're shackles can't hold me
Because I'm free at last!
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