contour lines

This battleground is mine at the end of the day it is all i have i know every mark on it both the intentional ones and the accidental ones,some could be seen as wounds mostly there just waymarkers pins in a flesh bound map that mark how this girl got where she is i still remember the first time i peirced myself how taboo it felt standing in the bathroom with a shoplifted pair of earrings the anticipation and the knots in my stomach as i took the first and just pushed it through hearing the pop of the skin and the small rush,the ritual of cleaning became away to seperate myself out from the chaos of the world around me, a strange anchoring piint that was mine it was that act that really taught me that the greatest battle i would ever fight would be for ownership of my body and what i want to do with it and that led….

The hardest part of all of this has been unhearing the voices that screamed into me about whatever they were screaming pouring their own hurt and fear into me trying to break me while telling me they loved me and were putting my interests first so i closed off but that map was always there and i could always trace where i had been and where i wanted to get to on it,its funny when you talk about bodies and what happens with them everyone gets squeamish but i get that they are without a doubt the most complicated space we ever occupy and there in lies the reason we fight so hard for ownership of them

This battleground is mine and i fight for it on a daily basis many have tried to claim ownership and tell me what it is and what it should be but their voices are just howls in the wind even those that would claim to be like me ignore my contour lines and impose their own understanding of it over the top of my heiroglyphics but i know,deep inside i know who this body belongs to and what it means.


~ by xpolx on November 24, 2016.

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