On Beauty & the Wasteland - v.4 / issue 1 - Why I Left
On Beauty & the Wasteland
V. 4 / issue 1
Because your touch makes my skin crawl, like your hands are covered with filth no amount of washing can clean. Like you are raping me all over again.
Because your sperm burns.
Because I cry during sex with you and you don’t notice. You roll over saying, “that wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” Even as tears are streaming down my face. What a creep I married.
Because no amount of money you earn can hide that you traded your bad teeth and band Ts for braces and company-man attire. Underneath, you persist as a 13 year old pre-pubescent Butthead — cringeworthy, awkward, and foul who can’t get laid. You have the Tag Heur to buy a live-in maid-mother-whore. (I pity her.)
Because I am grateful everyday that your porn addiction is more appealing than actual irl sex for my sake in the past and for all those you might touch otherwise in the present and future if this were not true.
Because you are the kind of man who, rather than cultivating a respectful relationship between our children and me, you teach them to hang up on me. “Hang up the phone, [daughter]. Just hang up the phone.” Blatant disrespect and disregard for the relationship between me and [daughter]. Teaching her how to treat me. Blatant Parental Alienation.
Because you are an insectoid whose insides are contaminated with shit, pestilence and disease. This is why your sperm burns and your shit stinks so much more than everyone else’s. You are rotting and putrefying inside. Your hard exterior is trying to contain an ever expanding cess pool.
Because your apparent passivity is belying how hard you are clamping down to contain your grotesqueness.
Because no amount of washing can clean what is dirty. You are a dirt bag.
Because you are like Donald Trump. Besides the Jersey connection, you have a lot in common — narcissistic entitled misogynists.
Because your arrogance and contempt are masks for how weak and small you are. Temper tantrum on the inside much? Intestines twisting.
Because I never want to be close enough to you to smell you again. It’s like your shit is seeping out through your orifices filling up your mouth, getting stuck in between your teeth.
Because I would rather fantasize about being with a cruel, keloid scared, unemployed-with-no-prospects, video-game addicted alcoholic living in this mother’s basement than you.
Because I would rather be alone than be with you.
Because your tongue reminds me of a clam’s foot digging around in your dirty mouth.
Because supporting your wife and the mother of your children through labor and the birthing of new life is “boring” to you.
Because I fantasize about tying you down and feeding you baby shit, smearing dirty diapers all over your body, your face, your hands, your genitals. All through your hair. Leaving you there to crust over.
Because I spit sperm into your shampoo.
Because your fastidiousness with keeping your hands clean is you being hands-off and refusing to share responsibility. When humans around you fuck up as they will, you are the first to point and blame with your oh so pristine hands. It’s biblical. Pontius Pilot washes his hands and lets the Jews take the blame. It’s Shakespearian. Lady MacBeth’s Out Damn Spot dancing with MacBeth’s dagger. This is the company you keep. Classic. Evil. Villains.
Because underneath your veneer of being right, you are so WRONG. Fundamentally, abominably WRONG. The world isn’t black & white you see. We are in living color.
Because I see you for who you really are, and you disgust me.
Because it may have taken this long for me to pick myself up, find my own humanity, and stand tall in my truth, but I am no longer afraid of you and those you use for protection.
Because I am not trapped now, and I never was.
Because I get to choose what I want, and I don’t want this.
Because I don’t want you.
Because ‘No.’ is a complete sentence.
Stay the fuck out of my garden you snake.
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