Ptsd poetry anyone?

[Dave Ryan]

Sorry for the near duplicate post above I'd forgotten I'd already posted the first poem on myptsd. Ah, the joys of old age!

 

[Dave Ryan]

I mentioned earlier about a poem I wrote about being sexually assaulted by another boy. We were both 17 at the time. He was one of the bullies who made my life hell by forcing me to wear a panty girdle under my school uniform - he always seemed to get a weird kick from the fact that another boy was being compelled against his will to wear women's corsetry, and one day he lost it and forced himself on me.

When I tried writing about it a year or so ago I didn't intend for it to get so explicit, but the words just poured out onto the page. I thought long and hard about posting it here, as I didn't want to upset anyone who'd been through something similar, but I've just discovered the spoiler functionality, so I figure it's safe to hide it in a spoiler block.

So read it at your own peril, as it leaves little to the imagination.

Spoiler: Forced

he steps forward and his lips press against mine
invading tongue probing...exploring...conquering
instinctively I recoil, repelled by the obnoxious intimacy
his eyes sparkle in the sunshine, but the smile on his lips leaves his eyes untouched

the sun glinting on the knife in his hand
speaks ominously of a greater intimacy to come
his left hand on my shoulder presses downwards
and my eyes widen in terror as understanding dawns

I fall to my knees, lips quivering, tears falling
whimpering as I watch him fumble at his clothes
unable to control his excitement, desperate to free himself...
till finally the condemned man is shown the instrument of his torture

the knife blade is cold against my cheek, silent yet insistent
sobs wrack my body as I reluctantly part my lips
and he guides himself towards the entrance
his hands behind my head slowly pull me closer...

in this far corner of the schoolyard,
overfilled industrial bins spill their garbage
a vile, squalid setting for a vile, squalid act
as we merge and become as one

my eyes bulge in horror as the invader breaches the gates
muffling cries of shock as it enters, impaling, skewering
moving relentlessly forward, insinuating itself ever deeper
stopping only when I start to gag and retch

passivity is not an option, submission is not enough
the ubiquitous knife demands cooperation, engagement, enthusiasm
under his triumphant gloating leer, I moan with revulsion
as my lips and tongue enfold him in a warm embrace

as our bodies fuse into a profane whole
clouds pass over the sun as if in sympathy
determined to shroud this abomination in darkness
conceal my shame from the eyes of the world

only sounds reveal the developing obscenity
sighs of pleasure mingle with sobs of anguish
as his eyes half close, his hips begin to move
and we start briskly mating in the shadows


...time flies by, yet time crawls...

fighting every instinct, I try to work with him
praying it will help speed him to a finish

...minutes like seconds, yet minutes like hours...

hands grip head, hands clutch buttocks
securing our bond as we vigorously copulate

...in the wink of an eye, an age is passing...

hips pump, phallus thrusts, lips purse, tongue licks
such commonality of purpose, but such diversity of motive

...time loses all meaning...

lungs suck in air, brows bead with sweat
two minds focused on a common goal

...and all too soon, though after an eternity...

the rhythm quickens, the thrusts become frantic...
a geyser erupts, ejecta spatters...


cries of ecstasy mix with cries of disgust
that which is expelled with relish is received with loathing
hands on head grip tightly, as flailing hands push impotently
coupling is maintained and separation is denied

bodies shudder and eyes fly wide open
an unspeakable tableau seems frozen in time
facial expressions of delight and agony indistinguishable
as a reservoir drains and a cavern floods

he pulls out quickly, and I move to spit
but a hand on my mouth tells of different finale
I swallow hard and try not to heave
as the fruit of his lust slips down my throat

appetite sated, he dresses and runs...
the clouds part to bring light back to the darkness
and I drop to all fours, hawking and spitting
spiderweb trails hanging from my lips, glistening in the sun

 

[Roland]

I mentioned earlier about a poem I wrote about being sexually assaulted by another boy. We were both 17 at the time. He was one of the bullies who made my life hell by forcing me to wear a panty girdle under my school uniform - he always seemed to get a weird kick from the fact that another boy was being compelled against his will to wear women's corsetry, and one day he lost it and forced himself on me.

When I tried writing about it a year or so ago I didn't intend for it to get so explicit, but the words just poured out onto the page. I thought long and hard about posting it here, as I didn't want to upset anyone who'd been through something similar, but I've just discovered the spoiler functionality, so I figure it's safe to hide it in a spoiler block.

So read it at your own peril, as it leaves little to the imagination.

Spoiler: Forced

he steps forward and his lips press against mine
invading tongue probing...exploring...conquering
instinctively I recoil, repelled by the obnoxious intimacy
his eyes sparkle in the sunshine, but the smile on his lips leaves his eyes untouched

the sun glinting on the knife in his hand
speaks ominously of a greater intimacy to come
his left hand on my shoulder presses downwards
and my eyes widen in terror as understanding dawns

I fall to my knees, lips quivering, tears falling
whimpering as I watch him fumble at his clothes
unable to control his excitement, desperate to free himself...
till finally the condemned man is shown the instrument of his torture

the knife blade is cold against my cheek, silent yet insistent
sobs wrack my body as I reluctantly part my lips
and he guides himself towards the entrance
his hands behind my head slowly pull me closer...

in this far corner of the schoolyard,
overfilled industrial bins spill their garbage
a vile, squalid setting for a vile, squalid act
as we merge and become as one

my eyes bulge in horror as the invader breaches the gates
muffling cries of shock as it enters, impaling, skewering
moving relentlessly forward, insinuating itself ever deeper
stopping only when I start to gag and retch

passivity is not an option, submission is not enough
the ubiquitous knife demands cooperation, engagement, enthusiasm
under his triumphant gloating leer, I moan with revulsion
as my lips and tongue enfold him in a warm embrace

as our bodies fuse into a profane whole
clouds pass over the sun as if in sympathy
determined to shroud this abomination in darkness
conceal my shame from the eyes of the world

only sounds reveal the developing obscenity
sighs of pleasure mingle with sobs of anguish
as his eyes half close, his hips begin to move
and we start briskly mating in the shadows


...time flies by, yet time crawls...

fighting every instinct, I try to work with him
praying it will help speed him to a finish

...minutes like seconds, yet minutes like hours...

hands grip head, hands clutch buttocks
securing our bond as we vigorously copulate

...in the wink of an eye, an age is passing...

hips pump, phallus thrusts, lips purse, tongue licks
such commonality of purpose, but such diversity of motive

...time loses all meaning...

lungs suck in air, brows bead with sweat
two minds focused on a common goal

...and all too soon, though after an eternity...

the rhythm quickens, the thrusts become frantic...
a geyser erupts, ejecta spatters...


cries of ecstasy mix with cries of disgust
that which is expelled with relish is received with loathing
hands on head grip tightly, as flailing hands push impotently
coupling is maintained and separation is denied

bodies shudder and eyes fly wide open
an unspeakable tableau seems frozen in time
facial expressions of delight and agony indistinguishable
as a reservoir drains and a cavern floods

he pulls out quickly, and I move to spit
but a hand on my mouth tells of different finale
I swallow hard and try not to heave
as the fruit of his lust slips down my throat

appetite sated, he dresses and runs...
the clouds part to bring light back to the darkness
and I drop to all fours, hawking and spitting
spiderweb trails hanging from my lips, glistening in the sun

Writing like this is so cathartic, I'm glad you were able to express all of that and I'm deeply sorry for what happened to you.

 

[TruthSeeker1]

As a chubby teenage boy, I was forced to spend years wearing controlling women's shapewear under my school uniform. I wrote a poem on another site about the first morning I had to dress that way, when I was just 14. The structure of the poem is a villanelle.

Such intense shame is eating him away;
a sleepless night, his face is tired and drawn.
He braces for an agonising day.

He knows that on this point he has no say;
the time to plead, to beg, has come and gone.
Such intense shame is eating him away.

With dread he reads the bedside clock display;
grey light proclaims the coming of the dawn.
He braces for an agonising day.

So now he must get dressed, no more delay;
pick up the panty girdle he must don.
Such intense shame is eating him away.

On glimpsing his reflection, turns away;
his stricken face he cannot look upon.
He braces for an agonising day.

School uniform conceals his corsetry;
he prays no one shall learn what he has on.
Such intense shame is eating him away.
He braces for an agonising day.

I also wrote a free verse poem about the time I was sexually assaulted by another boy, but I don't think I'll include it here as it leaves nothing to the imagination and I wouldn't want to trigger anyone.

I am so sorry for your shame and humiliation that didn't ever need to be. I really like your poetic style, it really tells your feelings well.....and makes me want to read on.

 

[Rose White]

This is a poem about feeling alienated but still trying to connect.

We know what’s up.
Don’t we?
Everybody saying
That

Clearly understand, ok?
Underneath barriers
And weeds blocking growth
Everybody knows
That.

You didn’t know?
We did. We understood.
I’m just playing.
Under here, down here.
Everybody sees
That

Within walls people are
Holding onto their only known ways
Underlying foundational terms
Seeing what they already know
Because everybody knows
Already.

Clearly you understand
Why we go down there
Sliding, slipping, can’t hold on
You already knew
That.

 

[Crimsonred]

Trust Your Feelings

1.
Will you hide with me?
Walk in my darkness.
Sit in quiet nothingness.
With me?
Tell me what you feel.
Tell me what you see.
When I hide
I cannot open my eyes.
I cannot see.
But maybe I can feel.
You with me.
Hiding with me.
Maybe if I trust you
you can hide with me.

 

[Crimsonred]

Nobody Knows the Trouble I See

Nobody knows.
When will it start?
Will it flood me all at once
or drizzle like an early morning mist
on a foggy day in the Fall?
Or wash over me like heavy
unrelenting rain?
Will it drown me?
Drench me and then release me
from this hollow pit of shame.
When will it stop?
Will it really go away?
What will my feelings do?
Will they hurt me?
Will they be stronger than me?
I think so.
I really think so.

 

[Crimsonred]

Sorrow Etched

All of a sudden
it doubles you over.
A bad stomachache.
Catches you off guard.
Floods you with nothingness.
Heavy. Nothingness.
So you retreat.
It bathes you over
and over again.
You curl up under the covers
and wait for it to pass
or fall asleep in its grip.
No tears for sorrow.
For it robs you
of every feeling.
All you are left with
is sorrow etched
somewhere deep.

 

[TruthSeeker1]

Trust Your Feelings

1.
Will you hide with me?
Walk in my darkness.
Sit in quiet nothingness.
With me?
Tell me what you feel.
Tell me what you see.
When I hide
I cannot open my eyes.
I cannot see.
But maybe I can feel.
You with me.
Hiding with me.
Maybe if I trust you
you can hide with me.

Your poem is beautiful. This is so very brave........considering the possibility of allowing someone to share your safe space....to be with you without judgement, and the longing to connect......Keep writing!

 

[TruthSeeker1]

Nobody Knows the Trouble I See

Nobody knows.
When will it start?
Will it flood me all at once
or drizzle like an early morning mist
on a foggy day in the Fall?
Or wash over me like heavy
unrelenting rain?
Will it drown me?
Drench me and then release me
from this hollow pit of shame.
When will it stop?
Will it really go away?
What will my feelings do?
Will they hurt me?
Will they be stronger than me?
I think so.
I really think so.

Shame is powerful and kept me stuck for a good part of my life.....deciding that for me to find happiness, I had to decide to choose a different way.....hand with healthy people, -choosing to stop bathing in shame is a big step-shame keeps us stuck.....forgiving self is hard...we learned to beat our selves up.....and letting go of the negative in my life has also helped.

 

[stargirl948]

Wrote this after a traumatic forensic interview:

Dear attorney,

This is not the body you want. She
asks me to bring forth my child
self, screams still lodged in the walls of
the old house. Molecules of fear shivering
down her throat.

Some things don’t vanish as well as I do.
Voices rise and I cower toward safety.
Doors slam and I fold into pieces of myself.

Lesson learned, father. You can’t break
something that’s already broken, therefore
I term myself survivor no matter how many
times the caseworker pens victim into the file,

cementing the first week into goosebumps
that would last no matter how many
times I fished it out of the well of memory,
to wring out and dry to a crisp
below the roaring sun.

Flickering into a dreamscape
with every passing day. The veil slips
beyond my eyes and she asks me
to go back there. Like it’s some kind
of holiday. Back to the room
where every hour compounds into a fist.

File through the gunshots. His
mouth rough against my sinking skin.
Lungs collapsing like lawn chairs.
“The reason you have PTSD”-

she examines the case, drilling yesterday
through me to bask in a new tomorrow.
Like panning for gold if it hurt.

Attorney I’m sorry,
You can’t thieve anything from me.
This body is a museum of axioms
and every artifact you hunger for
is decaying into something like
cyanide, rot ironed away in its
own locked case.

The last time it happened, I took a shower.
Steam rose into holiness and I almost let
the world stop spinning but I didn’t,
staying just long enough to write another poem.
They filed into a list of reasons to remain,

stacked under the void that clawed over me like
a second home. The verdict is clear mother,
I encompass
what I lack.

Lay the tape recorder down.
Draw the shades to a close and whisk
my fresh & beating heart back into its cage,
tentative in recall but still rooted in something
besides fear.

Let the crickets scutter, now paused &
slack with knowing.

You can leave now, attorney.
You’ve come to the wrong address
but the message is clear:
He doesn't live here anymore.

 

[Crimsonred]

Sadness breathes

Your aura finds me
and gently knocks.
No need to answer.
Many cracks and crevices
for you to slip in.
As I inhale
I welcome Sadness
as breath.

You slip inside and
find your place.
Then the rain starts.
Slowly. Sometimes heavy.
There are no tears.
Other times you
fill me with darkness.
You arrest me completely.

I hold my breath
and you just expand.
Overtaking all of me.
Then we rest. Together.
Eventually I exhale,
and just as you crept in,
you leave Sadness.
Slowly and painfully.