Miss you’re going to be ok

I need you to stay with me

Can you tell me how much you had to drink?

How much alcohol did you force your body to consume?

How many white lines of powder did you force your nostrils to digest?

How many times did you run that cold steel against your skin?

Miss I need you to speak

Make me understand 


Make you understand

The story of my life 

In between consciousness

Through blinks 

And convulsions of my body

“Princess it’s bath time”

I didn’t want to go

“Princess, come its bath time”

I tried to hide

But there was no place to hide

I always felt dirty

No matter how much water slides down my pre-pubescent body

I still felt dirty

Daddy please don’t get in with me”

“I’m old enough now”

“Please Daddy that hurts”

“Daddy stop I don’t want a bath anymore”


Stories from a fractured 

The bright lights blind my eyes

The cold metal table shocks me 

Andre at 13

Chris at 15

Brain at 16

They all rediscovered the place that Daddy found first

Cold metal tables I became use to

Andre was lucky

But Chris and I had a girl

She was vacuumed out

Girl of 2 Months


Stay with me your going to be ok

Have you been here before?

I need you to stay with us

Only a few more minutes

Everything will be fine



Brian told me that once

That was before his seeds made my belly swell

Before he left


He told me that once too

The backroom of an abandoned building

A woman who took minimal payment

Had limited equipment

No more metal beds

Just wet concrete 

And a broken wire hanger

And a line of girls 


Michael at 18

Mark at 19

Dennis at 20


At 20, I lost my womb

No more unwanted children

Children like me

I aborted them

It was like constant suicide

I should have been aborted


No little girls for Daddy to touch

No bath times

My eggs shriveled

They died

And I died along with them


So no I won’t be ok

I don’t need a few minutes

You will never understand 


The bottles of alcohol are shutting down

My liver

My kidneys


The cocaine is slowing down

My heart

My lungs


The slits across my wrist is killing


No more stories

I’m holding what’s left of my breath

Counting backwards from 10

9, 8, 7, 6,


Bye Daddy