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Tag: dissociation

The acknowledgement

I’m trying to be gentle with myself, but what if I never believe my body when it tells me what happened?

How to become a feminist horror writer

It’s the early 90’s. You watch “Gremlins” at a sleepover at your best friend’s house. You love sleepovers; you secretly pray you’ll never have...

A Local Man Celebrates International Women’s Day with a Series of...

Seven women have been sexually assaulted in five days on the canal path that runs by my house. I hear this news and I want to dress...

Scarlet

Pain flows through a crimson tide. Pressure of the cold steel knife. Cutting. Biting. Picture perfect, masking sadness with makeup. Pauses, only to bid him goodbye. Parting ways...

[Blood] Sodden Anguish/Deathbed Red (Fall 2017 Mood Board)

sodden anguish infiltrates interrogates fabric dips              dyes flesh scarlet towels   rags    already adorn the floor             design inspo              autumn shade auburn burgundy           the hues of after      sapphire runs obscure  ...

just like wet blood

Artwork and poetry by Ami J. Sanghvi

Stupid Milk

curdle in within myself like some homespun kiss of death spoiled milk                          shriveled biochemical bitch shadows on skin become tombs why am I still here when there are poisons...

Dismantle

Pack a butter knife for my trip to the jungle There are sweet lights ahead Fresh, wild hope left to wrangle No longer good, hunting stars at...

Ghost Weeds (Reclamation)

The screen door swung shut with a muffled wooden bang, and darkness opened up behind me. The well-lit inside world disappeared as I turned...

people

People hold you while are you pretending to sleep and look away when you are walking past midnight with socked feet on the unforgiving...

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The acknowledgement

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I’m trying to be gentle with myself, but what if I never believe my body when it tells me what happened?

Have the time of your life!*

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*Common side effects may include but are not limited to: harassment, stalking, getting drugged, passing out in...

To the fathers who do not abuse their daughters

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On my street I am witness to the young men who carry the pink-flowered backpacks of little girls, who...