To the Men I Trust, To the Men I Don't
Start writing a post
Community

To the Men I Trust, To the Men I Don't

But it is my fashion - my grotesqueness

50
To the Men I Trust, To the Men I Don't

Who are the men I trust? Who are the men I trust.

Should I be a flat-earther? For the circles that compass over themselves, to dodge them as they knock me on their turn around? For the spin that dizzies me afreshed into a sweeter doomsday, as the earth spins and spins, to allow it to fling me against the walls of this suffocating universe. There is no eschaton that I can sense in my tingling red fingers, in my gilded gliding sunset skirt that even motions its dally around a circumference dancing to the beat of a circularly rhythmic heart. Where are you doomsday, end of days, where are you, my Reckoning? Postured under this skirt, between my legs? Even there, life is circular. Does it end, does it ever? And if the clock relearns a linear step, can I still stay here, learn to be divine outside of the tease of coming alive, wet and boned, to grow upwards only to spin.

Flat earth, my grid, I should be groped by you. Romantic sense, I suppose, to feel about uncertainly or search without the guidance of sight. If your grassy flush could succumb my skin and ravish it, bruise it on the blood side, make it gush, then oh Reckoning let nature be as nature is. I'd gladly give my superstitious honour to the grieving and lovesong Earth. Because my scorch could burn it back, then I'd burn this whole place down. Out of sacrifice and love. My fleshy and brown sacrifice and love.

That is what the men I don't trust don't understand - a loving honey heart and my suckle skin. That it comes in a pristine package in wrapping paper that is scream and sniff, sometimes cry and sniff, if he's lucky. I don't trust my father. He doesn't see god in me, I am not his creature, I am not his divine. He says to me when my petals are bruising, your pain is disrespectful to me. I am a raunchy, breast-faced weed who sets paper alight by the gas tank just to see what I can make pucker, what soil I can make vibrate in the wind, under my eye. If in that Exxon I can set a sun ablaze, with the power he gives me, I will and I will laugh. To him, I am a sad, sad, unfortunate broken porcelain doll. He says, young woman, young baby, little one. You are just a child. You are just a nothing. He talks about my sex and my body, makes me grotesque. Perhaps I am. But it is my fashion - my grotesqueness, my animalism, Proud Father, it is why I am loved, why I am lusted, why I am nothing like the yes sir yes-woman, that boney faced succumbent coward, why the world sits in my broken and rusty little fingers. My father, I don't trust him. Because he calls what my skirt hides "the goods", as if its cross-stitches circle around my pinching waist to ask someone to ride themselves underneath it. How, swallowing nature, swallowing green goddess, do I trust a man who forces me into his circle, cry o'clock, laugh o'clock, then I pop a finger up between that smelly fishy sex of mine to remind myself that I am still alive. I don't trust men who stare at themselves without a third eye and pinch their stomachs in the mirror to check if their anger feels good settled in there. I don't trust men, and I shed a tear for their loss.

The men that see god in me, they're blinded. Suck me off honeysuckle skin, while the Reckoning feels the jealousy rise under his spirit shadow. I don't trust my boyfriend, not with every single piece of myself. Not the pyromaniac, not the creator, not the angry. The cycle of loving is the cycle of questioning. Time, the bastard, cuckolding me with a future that may or may not be. I don't trust him to love me like I trust nature to swallow me. I don't trust his smile when he says he will blanket me in his florets from the dirty, filthy, malt barley-soaked world that he was raised in, the one that hates me from the inside out. The one that destroys and picks apart the essences of human expression, the volatility unfairly characterized to human reproduction, that christens rebirth into an arsenic cherry pit of a spit-bound world. His words make me disappear into nothingness, not because they mean nothing, but because I can't believe them when they make me cry. When I have vomited into the well and poisoned the water and felt minimal regret. When I wonder if I am worthy of love. I don't trust him to love me, but I am hydrated knowing that he does. Fishy sex and perky-fluorescent eyes stenched with honeymoon oil, I don't trust myself enough to protect the man I don't trust either. I don't trust our survival in our circle of kissing until we forget we exist, jolted out by who gave us blood, and crawling out of our skin to re-identify with the other. I don't trust men who have seen me naked but who have never seen me angry dance.

The men I do trust make up the same nature that I let swallow me, scorching, that I smile at. My trees, they give me oxygen and raise my spirit to the wheel of karma, tickle my dharma and make it laugh outside of the tainting humanity. Un-cast their own shadows. My three men. I don't have to remind myself I am alive when they cry. They use my distrust and cataract it pink and rosy. Dizzied by the turning, I fall into their cold and kind soil, fantastically soiled and rolling like a pig in the mud, squealing their melting heart beats into my unending pulse. The karma, the succor, the toothache as we scream into the sky together, leveling the ground, for just a moment. The roundedness of the solid earth is nothing but a launch pad for our own determination of lovesong outside of grief. Their leaves steeped in my goddess body, I can't remember what it feels like to distrust. I feel we are saints, clouds, I feel they see the god in me - they are.


Report this Content
This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
Health and Wellness

PCOS Is The Worst, But The Women Battling It Every Day Are Extraordinary

Women are learning new ways to assist hormonal health every single day.

710

Everyone knows someone who has polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS). Maybe you don't know that you know, but with 10% of women in the United States having the autoimmune disease, it's more common than you'd think. The hormonal hell that many of these women go through is not only painful, but it's exhausting, with too few answers thanks to a lack of research and consistency.

This lack of research makes the disease rather "trial and error" for many women, as everyone's case is different and requires them to figure things out based on experimentation. Thankfully, the women of the world are good at fixing problems. While PCOS has caused me a lot of hurt, I've been blown away by the women I've met who continue to tackle this battle head-on, one day at a time.

Keep Reading... Show less

Tuesday's debate had a lot of talking points. (And by that I mean a lot of interruptions... 76 to be exact by none other than Donald Trump.)

Keep Reading... Show less

OK, listen, I also think Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is cool. I had an Elizabeth Warren sign in my dorm room for a while. I'm currently interning for a congressional candidate. I'm very invested in politics. And supporting and liking certain politicians over others is a part of being invested in politics.

Keep Reading... Show less
Rebecca Alvarez

Rebecca Alvarez is many things: founder, sexologist, CEO, mentor, and more — as a Latina businesswoman, each of her endeavors is grounded in the strong principles of inclusivity and diversity, especially in sexual health and wellness. Bloomi is the product of her all of her shared passions, and with it she has fostered a community of like-minded, passionate women.

Keep Reading... Show less

There is not a consistent standard for health education in the United States. There are a lot of variables that go into this — what state a student lives in, whether they go to a public or private school, and the district's funding and priorities. These variables can be argued for any subject, not just health class. But as we continue to grow as a society, hopefully bettering our education system along the way, it's crucial to consider this often-forgotten element of a child's schooling.

Keep Reading... Show less

In March, the whole country shut down. School was online, extra-curriculars were canceled, and I found myself laying in bed all day every day. One day, as I was laying in bed contemplating my laziness, I decided that I wanted to do something to make myself more healthy. I was feeling so down on myself and my laziness so I decided to make a change.

Keep Reading... Show less
Entertainment

10 Songs That Made It Onto My September Playlist

September is the month for Los Angeles natives and Australian music fans.

4443

The Neighbourhood, Bad Suns and The Driver Era are three Los Angeles bands that released songs this month. Not only was it a month for Los Angeles bands, but many Australian bands released new music — San Cisco's fourth studio album, Surf Trash single, Skegss single, and High Tropics single. I made new discoveries this month and was pleased by the amount of new music.

Read the listicle below to learn what came out this month in alternative rock music:

Keep Reading... Show less
Health and Wellness

Staying Active While You're Stuck Inside IS Possible, It Just Takes Some Small Steps

I know the last thing you want to think about right now is exercising, but it's time to put down the controller and put on your workout clothes.

1098

As someone who has also been living on a bed since March, I can guarantee you that working out has been the last thing on my priority list. It's pretty far down there, along with my motivation and brain cells I used to use for work. However, I have made an effort in the past couple of weeks to move up exercising to at least number three on my priorities list.

Keep Reading... Show less
Photo by Craig Adderley from Pexels

I am not a licensed therapist or medical provider, therefore this article is not to be used as such. Instead, see it as an article to help guide you in a healthier direction when finding solutions to minimize your anger. If you are dealing with anger issues, please consult your primary care physician, or reach out to Better Help.

Everyone has dealt with anxiety, stress, and even anger at some point in their lives. For some, it's a daily battle with coping anger issues. In fact, it can be brought on by something rather random, or it could even be caused by a highly stressful job where you are dealing with incompetent coworkers and feeling rather under-appreciated. Although life tends to bring along this type of stress that piles on top of the already raging volcano inside, it is best to learn how to live with it in a healthy way.

Keep Reading... Show less
Facebook Comments