Redder

This is the poetry of a man who once was: and who once was very beautifully. A beautiful man – who once being, is no longer.

It tells his story, his most intimate story. It tells the story of his sexual abuse by three people: people who entered his life and in doing what they did, have now proceeded to do everything they can to hide their roles in the damage they performed on him, behind their very closed doors.

Violence

Of slight

Where half a word

Destroys like

Hoarse of

Trojan

Virus

A day of utter

Wonder

In seconds that cry

An asunder of tears.

Three is my number

Of pain.

And

Tree my vehicle

Of universal

Disdain.

No longer wanting

The aggression of

Seed.

No longer prepared

To acknowledge

This need.

And where tree

Once gave impression

That three might be

Salvation of two,

I now know far better:

And a once, twice, thrice

Equal brutalisation

Of any manhood

I ever had

Is what my life

Has thought me;

Has taught me;

Has ought me.

No

More.

Just

The saw

And seen

And been

Of frosty hoar.

What my life

Has bequeathed me.

What my love

Has bewreathed me.

What my cipher

Has deceived me.

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