I’m Leaving You

In the laundry room beneath the building
with the fresh smell of Tide detergent
on my hands in the fragrant spring air
blowing in the unscreened window
finding beauty in everyday acts like doing
the laundry within a confined situation
never submitting but being and being again
though torture lasts for years
and even more years I’m not existing
in opposition to you
this is simply called I’M LEAVING YOU

I climb back down the cross
back up the walls where I am pushed
against my face and breasts
my painful nose is throbbing
I climb out of the yellow satin Satan coffin
where I am choking on dry smoky air
you were smoking Marlboros in my coffin
I got you out I freed you
And you closed the lid on me
And I could not escape the suffocation
I own the bottom as I
have been there all along
it is not ever submission
but an ascension on the cross
I climbed back down to Hades
my home
to get away from you

I knew Lucifer in depth
Through your merciless hard eyes
I was in your chest still
in quiet innocence
I dwelled as Christ when it became

too much
I escaped as a girl Christ at times
a boy Christ
insisting the one-time crucifying
be an instant release
It is only ever LEAVING TU

It is a terrible drama I portray
but the black Prince of Darkness mask I wear
my nakedness my child’s body my tenderness
are my real rage
You put me in open air graves with no coffin
Just dirt or cheap plywood once
I realized I had reached a new low in life
I had to dig my way up to get out

You ate dinner while I lay in the earth
I saw the warm welcoming lights
that excluded me from the dining room
once more I felt black
while I starved outside under the cold soil
I saw you sitting uncaring eating
and smiling
the Arab smile I used to like earlier
maybe you were happy
but it was the Holocaust for me
it’s too late for a rescue,
needless to say

It is a rolling wheelchair exit I take
flying down the Sausalito freeway
to Santa Monica where the bitch was
in my path as I wheel out the door
you were standing behind her
locating the exact point the sunlight
in case I could one day see
from inside a dark crime alley trash pile
that he set me down on
sitting with the homeless black men
and finishing my clean fish bones
from a good fish sandwich with tobasco
I could have choked but didn’t
you hoped I would choke
but like the satisfied cat who left
with satisfaction

The fresh scent of Tide on my clothes
And my burdened skin-stripped hands
The dryer sheet a rough tissue for my nose
The tears I have shed for the agonies
an unexpected gift of intentionally wilted flowers
Are a wracking BOUNDING pain in my head
an ever-tightening gold and silver metal band
perhaps copper perhaps American pewter
the heavy mesh of an armored Crusades suit
I am wearing on my slender shoulders
becoming a headache torture commercial I had to write
and research a new corporate aspirin product
for the relief of my migraine as well as yours
I ended the pain by walking away

Still the fresh freshness lifts me up onto the unfound road
With no credit for my work last year
before this season’s hypnosis paralyzed me
A dropped reality through forced walk excusions in the open air
It was a mental institution and you pushed the wheelchair
as the admitting doctor
As I leave you once more it doesn’t matter
how many times I’ve tried
even though it seems like a way of life
to leave you
because as I roll out the door

They knocked me off the ascension
they pushed me off the elevator ramp as I rolled by
the motherfuckers sitting in my wheelchair
I screeched like a snowy white owl
flying through the roof as either the devil
a witch or a saint I am not sure
to this day if I was saintly or not
as I flew off the cross with rage
yet another time on the uphill road to my
independent victory and my independent action (IA)
the WPA is still the work program of my autonomy

every time I tried to get started
you threw me out of the three-ring circus again
it was my only home besides the coffin
I was homeless
I had to choose early between a prison or a coffin
I chose the coffin under duress
those were never my real choices
You pushed on me another white straw hat
and a matching striped jacket
a whipped existence you said I had earned
Boy, they all told me to at least
forget the straw hat
because I told them I needed the jacket

my own conscience was speaking
an insect apparition
my friends said it was the damned coat I was wearing
to take the nazi symbol off my chest
once and for all as
it is a branding iron

falling on the ramp they had set out to trip me
standing like an apparition by my empty wheelchair
I flew off the cross with a fluent rage
it was a good feeling as
I tipped the sands of time in the hourglass
for another hour to take an extra breath
I am alive not dead and walking through
the deserted saloon doors
into a covered wagon reality
safe from the dry dusty sandstorm
obscuring your venom
like a rattlesnake near my throat

Not a pyhrric victory this time around
The arid red saloon doors I photographed
As a setup in Santa Fe were in the porno movie
I once owned documenting my death
The swinging gate was not really a door
once again you hit me as I entered the action
another time and called it caring even using
the word Love
I was never a slave
You only owned the empty air between your violent hands
The dirt in your pockets the lint on your PC screen
was put there by me the current abused witch

I am the air I am the wind I fly like a lost Sabbath
I am the air I am the wind I fly like Satan
I fly like Jesus I fly like a Brahmin
I fly like Buddha I fly like Mohammed
I fly like a Sufi journey already taken
I am the air I am the wind the holy witch wind
I fly like Hitler like Hitler’s daughter

I am a wind tunnel with leaves flying upward
I ascend back down and up again
through the righteous fabric
of my own nearly-ruined coat by you
it’s winter and I need it
it was a witch wind that blew my hat to me
even so, to get away from you I will be Jesus again
what a last choice it is to get back up
on the crucifix again
it seems to be a way of life to leave you
I can’t get anything done because

I am a minutiae, I am a militia, a cognizant road
Not a spiritualist
not a quietly spoken or even a very loud nun
I am a black patch on a sailor’s eye hiding intent
I steal the thefts you stole from me back for me
to keep myself
I steal from you as you stole my capital
I steal everything I own from you
with pleasure not fear but backup

Cigarette burns on my arms
healing through my high endurance level
using a pain measure you took recently
It wasn’t Jesus but ME it was ALWAYS ME
living through the burns
standing with a straight back
a calm voice and a ready smile
I was a pretty girl with burns
It wasn’t Jesus but ME
He walked off the cross with me that day
I held his hand
I will take this to the Justice Court of the Universe
for what you have done to me today

You negated my existence
I couldn’t walk out of the door
ever without you beside me
all along through my deranged
childhood I have had to solve
humanity’s problems through your flaws
Every time I had a friend, one friend
for even one minute
you criticized me for having
a base of support
I am leaving you, the Nazi
You looked at me as if I were worth
A billion $$ dollars $$ – and I was
I knew you would destroy me to keep me
While I was tied up
I came for free plus some
To get out of there

The veils you have wrapped around my face
are promontory mound scarves
always revealing the hidden presence of cameras
but I always knew the photographer for your porno
he said that you are actually holding
my by now desecrated camera
every time I thought of you
I threw the veils down
wrapped them wadded up the cheap
polyester fabric into an ugly rolled ball
I spat on the veiled ball hurling the light
into the encompassed mirror
a disappearing symbol of an unmarked grave
you pushed me up against that wailing wall

I’m back in the coffin
peering out from the brown dirt on my skin again
listening for creaking sounds around the lid
My stolen home is my fulcrum point
when was my body a temple like in the Bible
just once?
I’m cutting him off because
I am not a Barbie Doll beauty without a brain
He can look at what he already stole
not at me
I am standing up in a rigid box
a black box a white boxed Rubik’s cube
I was forced to solve in moving cabs
My neck hurts and I know
I am in the cheap plywood coffin you bought me
One more time I live in the eternal darkness
of the deep nicht arab night
I search for the waning light climbing
up like an ant
on a minimalist journey
I’m climbing off the ant farm
through the silted sifted soil
of Europe

I am back in the magma core again
climbing up Mt. Vesuvius as a cockroach
with a black ash streak mark on my forehead
from the occult I knew through sacrifice
I was the ritual torture victim becoming
the victorious bird dancer
and a sometimes satanic interpreter
Back again looking out of the hole
My hole – it my whole tender breathing
living whole soul – My Soul (w)hole

I was living in a hatred home
because you were living there
until recently you were holding me hostage
Your raging cold constant hatred of me
my vagina my back and my front
my whole breathing song
a former loving child now a vigilant woman
with a chilled response and song repertoire
I was a girl you never noticed my trust
Because nothing ever changes
I was more than the little Nazi girl all along

You tried to make me a pimp
and everyone’s whore on the closed circuit TV
with concealed web and satellite spycams
it was a visual virtual rape while
I had to be both God and a prostitute
to satisfy you the white man
even though you never talked to me
I had to steal my own thoughts from me
while believing I was you, the pimp,
not me at all
I was negated and wearing your name as my identity
always reporting my transgressions
to you the white secret police
while you made me pay illegally
I cracked the hypnosis Da Vinci code

I thank God I don’t know you anymore
I never did know you because
you only forced me with brutality
to say I knew you when I don’t
publicly you said I am not a citizen and cannot act
then you said I am a slave or a servant-slave
what the hell is that?
a new category for my role as a woman?
as I clean the mirror in our home
I realize what you meant and throw the rag down
even the paper towels I throw them on the floor
putting my blue Windex spray surface cleaner
away forever even though it is new
and I walk away from our unmade bed

I will redefine the ceiling as I stand over you
I will redefine the ceiling as the floor while
I dance a spinning whirling dervish dance
a beautiful little girl’s wild dance
on top of your head
You won’t know I am alive
EVEN THOUGH I stand outside your dungeon
with the keys
You won’t hear from me in the future because I am leaving you.

I am back in the front back in the middle
of your crappy car sitting in the backseat
not grateful at all why should I be grateful?
Grateful for what?
it was all wrong and I knew it was all wrong
Waiting for the dryer cycle to complete
I carefully separate your clothes from mine
because they have leprosy and worse
especially the underwear

Placing them neatly in your dresser drawer
the top drawer, of course
I grab my emergency money and
I walk out the door
Toward manna toward heaven toward mecca
Toward Bethlehem
Toward the nearest hamburger place
To plan my escape from MY home
which these days is always your jail
walking with abandon and confidence
down the freedom road
I don’t stop to brush my hair
or bother with lip gloss
smiling in the mirror

it’s a woman thing
it’s a heart thing
it’s in my vagina that you
will never know
it’s my holy space
and you will never know it

I am the Pope now as I leave you
you threw the rocks too hard
at me the girl standing on the wall
you were a man, not a boy
and the rocks were your brutal fists
your painful raging slaps
you existed for meanness
you were a big scary rigid form
next to me ready to hit me again
as I lay in your cold cold bed
I left you early – during the during
the enduring breaths I take
I left you already!
but you didn’t know or care because it was
never my bed only yours

I had no room to breathe and I slipped
out from between the sheets early
one morning as you slept
a deep satisfied sleep
I looked closely
at your no-guilt icy face
I never went back to caring as
that is how you trapped me
caring for you lying in your bed
trapped between your legs you are
a mean man with truly mean hands
AND for this reason

You poured a loam fertilizer product
on what is now foreign soil in our backyard
I bought it in Hechingers for a family garden
You didn’t want
Putting me in the cheap coffin again
you said I’ll be back
I didn’t wait however and climbed out
of the coffin buried under a foreign country
I never knew as our home before
without my identity intact as you stole it
every day through violence expressed toward me
my skin and my occasionaly fragile woman’s soul
even child’s soul at times

You were the doctor in a white mask
at the opening to the grave
exhuming tilling the soil almost packed down over me
offering to free me from bondage
through a conscript program
as some sort of welfare draftee
It is euthanasia you said Service
or nothing less than suicide
adding “You have a fixation on death”
and you put me in the hospital again
“one more time we will do this”
you remarked casually
as a frigid stranger once more
negating my will nonetheless
striking terror in my heart
and disgust that always prevails
when I need you to come through
for me in a crisis
you simply never do

You made me feel like a servant
while you were in my body
a maid in hypnosis
that I am not
with a leash around my neck
hopelessly following you
into ignominy and eventual death
against my will and
unable to speak with silent screams
I left with my spirit
into familiar terrain
not as an insect again

It is the abstruse point of view
Nothing you gave me was yours
to give
I already own everything
Including my entire body
I own my face and
my expressions on my face
you couldn’t give me anything
let alone take anything away
this is not said by me
it is said by Jesus
I may sound nice but I
am not nice about this
for fucking me over
just once
I am leaving you

There is no final voiceover
No voice overlay
It was your voice
drowning me in my life
Just my voice
Just mine
It is always my voice
I speak with
It is mine only
It is finally my beautiful voice
I hear
And it always was
It’s all mine.
My voice is me.
I’m keeping it for
the future
for my father
for my unborn child
perhaps never born
because I lost my voice once
or more than twice
and because I want to still
believe in God
for my peace of mind
and simply for myself
I am leaving you
I have already left you
yesterday for the ugly bruises
on my beautiful body
that I can still see and feel
I don’t stay tied up for long
I had to walk out of my body
to leave you
This is goodbye.