Image

is ..

My tears are thick
My body, irritated.
Muscles, they ache.
My chest is heaviness.
Down to under my ribs, it heaves.
Throbs.
Screams.
But silently.
My stomach knots.
Tight, like my fists.
My thighs.
My calves.
All recoiled.
Solid.

And that is it’s existence.

Trying to be gentle with myself, is like ..
Like.

A bad fucken joke.


kpm©

here’s a dream for yah .. yup I still have em

fuck face was dead. id halved him to put in a box to put outside.
noone cared.
Then he woke up.
But different.
.
Cut to my Nan and grandad’s old place.
.
Aunty N .. came gave me a letter and a hug. @ Front porch of Nan’s old place.
.
A Big hug.
.
Another person, unnamed, came to some where .. where I was at,  motel or place we were all watching kapa haka. Moko was little. But acting grown.
.
Person came in and said ok I’m here to discuss .. something .. sounded like it was going to be friendly .. and then they said ..
.
Something like, youre mental health or you’re mental state is shit because you won’t agree with me.
.
As they started in though, fuck face came in, there were others, my daughter’s and grand kids ..
I got angry.
I let this person talk for ages. Rave on.
.
Everyone was looking at me walking around, pacing and this person was getting high off their own speech.
But they sounded absurd.
.
Then I let rip. Finally.
.
Said ‘tell me why’, in a big big voice, ‘why I went off the rails as u say .. got rebellious .. naughty’ ..
I was yelling ..
‘What age did that happen, do you remember.
Do you fucken remember when that fuck first hurt me.
No.
Have a guess. Nice and loud. Was it,
7, no, mokos age, no, lower .. lower .. 3 – 4 ..
And what did you do
What did you do.’
.
Noone moved.
They just watched.
They weren’t uncomfortable.
I was getting louder though. Not crying. Bit visbly angry.
‘What did you do when I came and told you.
What did you say
Did you stop going there.
Did you tell him off.
Did they fuck face?
No.
On and on.
And you have the the fucken cheek to be here telling me I’m mentally incompetent.

Fuck you.”
.
& That was the end of my dream.
When I woke up my throat felt different.


kpm©

truth

I’ve spent a lifetime
Mapping what to do next.
Also known as,
Evasive manouvres.

And now you telling me to stop it.

How about, how to make peace with it.

Or to utilize it for something else.

Cos it is literally part of me.

The angst comes from trying Not to be that & remove it.


kpm©

said it before , say it again, just cos

Simple clear functional spaces are my safe places / spaces.
Minimal.

So fucking minimal.

It’s a Calm space.


kpm©

eyeball rolling

so busy,

apparently necessarily ..

managing symptoms .. patching up holes ..

we can’t dismantle or eradicate the ’cause’.

Apparently.

Or even hold it accountable.

now that’s some bullshit.


kpm©

telling & retelling my story.

Me.
Healing my body.
Healing my story.
Narrating my own healing.
.
Whatever comes & whoever it comes for, after all that talking, & all the work ; is gravy.
.
.
Cos
First contact & awareness with my uterus, was forceful invasion.

She has carried that ever since.
Guarding.
Protecting.
Cleansing.
Growing.

She won’t ever not.

Even as she prepares to close her biological functions
She can prepare to let go of the maemae she has held until she could enact her memories.

All hail.


kpm©

& &

You sick filthy fucks.

Period.


kpm©

Image

& because

It’s my body.
Mine.
Not yours.
Not theirs.
It’s.mine.

Everytime some whim of ‘you should’ crosses my ear holes ..
My body is now literally decided to noticeably Object.
By noticeably.
I mean.
I’m noticing it.
Actually.

All I feel, when the uncomfortable sensation dissipates ..
Is, awe.

That she felt, held, screamed, cried, breathed, survived .. for so, muthafkn long.


kpm©

.. just is ..

Guts tightening .. feeling like vomiting but not exactly …
More like invaded , consumed  ..
I can breathe ..
But
But
My insides are screaming.

Let me go
Let me out

My other insides are trying to soothe me.

It’s ok.
Just breathe gf.
Just breathe.

But I don’t want to breathe I want to cry.
Scream.
Run.
Curl up into a ball and die.
Kill.
Cry.
All at once.

And my guts tightens.

We coming to a close.
Slowly.

Or more like a resolution. Partnership maybe.

And my guts tightens.

And I can feel my wairua fighting.
Again.
Fighting to breathe.

Fighting to calm.

Fighting to balance.
Fighting for perspective.
Reasoning.
Solutions.

Me & her.
We tight.

Just tryna get the rest of the fucken team on board .. (the body .. groan)
Fucker.


JK.
I got use.

Somewhere. I got use.


kpm©

Image

psa

long term child sexual assault often gets referred to as an abusive ‘realtionship’.
it’s not.
i repeat.
it.is.not.


kpm©

&

Child .. invasion.
But not being able to describe the sensation.
Of being or having no control over what is happening to your body.

It’s not shame.
Even though those honkies say that’s what it is.
It ain’t.

It’s not breathing.
Not being able to take a breathe.
Literally.
That’s fear.
Fear of dying.
For real.

I feel no shame for something someone else chose to enact on my body.
My body.

I feel fear.
Hot burning fear.

Translating into hot burning rage.


kpm©

. . . tell yah what’s hideous

the feeling.

or concept.

of being out of control. of your body.


Breathe.
Just breathe.


kpm©

. .

new phase ..

reckons ..
tryna be gentle with myself.


& it’s hard to breathe.


breathe baby.
breathe.


kpm©

so,

it mental health awareness month .  .  & i wonder ..
does that shit apply to injury.
see ..
the sexual assault of a child & the ongoing torture and torment of that child, right up into adulthood, is a crime .. right? like an actual legit crime.
right?
covered by acc & all, the effects of that crime are considered injuries.
however those injuries have to be diagnosed as mental illness / injury to be legitly covered.
so i wanna know how telling the victim of multiple crimes, that they are infact the one with the mental illness. how the fuck that help ..  any body. Any time. At all.

make that make some motherfucking sense please.


kpm©

&

don’t let it seep into
your
soul.


kpm©

so,

sure, that’ll be a hit with the natives ..

so says the ‘inclusion, diversity & we need to be seen giving a fuck but don’t really’ commitee’

kpm©

ummm ..

can someone please explain to me what on earth is the purpose of sitting with ‘the’ discomfort.

that shit just don’t make sense.


kpm©

&

forgiveness isn’t for me. it’s to help you feel better.

a thought / feel

somewhere in there, i can hear my insides wailing. groaning with distress ..  ..

watching my body break, my muscles contract, my soul contort.

why didn’t uze help me ..

what was so awful about me that uze couldn’t

See .. Act.

ignoring the most basic of humanities ..
.
.
how could uze.
How. Could. Uze.

you could see the demon. & ignore it’s actions.

you didn’t just let it live, you let it thrive.


kpm©

& on the 3rd day .. they sat the fuck down

they actually were more concerned with not upsetting him rather than not upsetting me.

.

& now, it’s amusing that I’m anxious & afraid . 

still more interested in getting their own gratification in whatever form than listening to what I have I survived, become, endured, .. you just want the comfortable parts.

.

well i’m all out of that shit sir.


kpm©