head above water
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

"

This is the rape joke:
My best friend was four years old the first time his father came into his room at midnight and tore out his throat. He still has days when I cannot hold him because the memory of a bleeding trachea haunts his doorway. He has not been home for the holidays in many years, but – even now – hands are seen as weapons.

This is the rape joke:
I have been told by more than twenty people that they have been raped. To all of them, I asked where the rapist was. From none of them, I heard ‘jail.’

This is the rape joke:
Once my brother told me that I was so ugly, I would be a virgin forever. Unless someone raped me. But even they wouldn’t come back for seconds.

This is the rape joke:
I believed him.

This is the rape joke:
I now look at every woman on the street and wonder if the space between her legs is a crime scene, surrounded by ripped caution tape. The statistics tell me that this is so common that I will never be in a room that does not contain a survivor. Not even if I am in that room alone.

This is the rape joke:
I was thirteen years old, and he was supposed to be just a friend.

This is the rape joke:
When his older brother came home, the boy pulled away. He wiped the tears from my face and said ‘we should do this again some time.’

This is the rape joke:
When I finally told my parents, they asked what I had been wearing.

This is the rape joke:
I had been wearing my innocence. My trust. I had worn the love I held for humanity and expected to be treated well. I had never been taught that I would be that girl, the one who keeps a mine of secrets between her legs – that girl was the slut. I wasn’t supposed to be breakable.
What had I been wearing? I wore the rape joke, then I became it.

"

This is the Rape Joke | d.a.s

After Lora Mathis’s poem “the Rape Joke

(via backshelfpoet)

Reblogged from untrustyou, Posted by untrustyou.
untrustyou:

migue1ito 
Reblogged from untrustyou, Posted by untrustyou.
untrustyou:

Iceland
Andrew Gallo
Reblogged from untrustyou, Posted by untrustyou.
untrustyou:

Nonotak Studio on Tumblr
Reblogged from untrustyou, Posted by untrustyou.
untrustyou:

Richard Mosse
The Blue Mask, Lake Kivu, Eastern Congo, 2010
Reblogged from untrustyou, Posted by untrustyou.
untrustyou:

Vsevolod Khomenko

"

January 16th 2013
Dear “you,” that’s what I’ve been referring to you in the poems I write at 3 in the morning. I still can’t say your name. I hope you know that I stopped breathing when you told me you didn’t love me anymore. I hope you know that your words could burn holes through my skin. You could make stars fall from the sky. You could kill me. You could end the world with the way you speak. I hope you come back soon. I’m starting to get lightheaded. I miss you I miss you. I’m so sorry.

February 3rd 2013
Dear you,
my letter must’ve gotten lost in the mail and that’s why you haven’t responded. That’s what I keep telling myself but I know it’s not true. I know you read it. I’ve seen it a million times in my head. You just got home from school and you’re sitting on your bed listening to The Strokes, ignoring the fact that they were my favorite band, and your mother comes upstairs and hands you my letter and you leave it on your bedside table, the one that you hide your cigarettes in, and you glance over at it a few times before you finally decide to read it. and your eyes skim over at it and your head starts to hurt a little, but not enough to make a difference, not enough to make you love me again. I wish you would write back. I’m tired of writing letters to a ghost.

April 19th 2013
Dear you,
You called me last night. Oh god. Your voice. I missed your voice. You were slurring your words when you asked how I’ve been and I tried to keep my hands from shaking. I swear to god when you told me you missed me I felt my heart slam into my ribs. I almost passed out. I think I’m going crazy. I still love you. Every part of me still loves you. Your name is always stuck in my throat and I keep your smile under my fingertips and I can’t forget you. I tried to swallow pills to get you out but I just got dizzy. I tried to wash my hands with vodka but it didn’t work.

September 4th 2013
Dear you,
I kissed a boy last night. He tasted like sugar and he grabbed my hips and I liked it a lot. I don’t miss you anymore.

September 5th 2013
Dear you,
I still miss you like crazy.

October 17th 2013
Dear you,
My mom told me to stop writing to you. She says I’ll never move on if I’ve always got you on the tip of my tongue and I’m spending too much on stamps. I don’t want to taste you anymore so this is my last letter.

October 17th 2013
Dear you,
never mind.

November 9th 2013 
Dear you,
I was over you until I held hands with the boy who lives down the street and tasted glass in my mouth. Jesus fuck you’re in my veins and bleeding out can’t fix me. I’ve tried.

January 16th 2014
I can say your name now.

"

letters to the boy who broke my heart  (via extrasad)