yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


i went outside to find out what the fucking screeching was last week. it was a drunk michael. i grabbed at his skinny head to see if i could stop him from making that noise knowing that my father would beat the shit out of him. he just grabbed at my wrists and thrashed violent. i screamed. even when he's drunk, he's a billion times stronger than me and he'd dug his thumbs into my veins. i kicked him and he grabbed my ankle. by now i was trying to run away. he pulled me down and kept hitting my stomach. i started crying and put my palm against his face and tried to stop the punches. he smelled like beer and automobile engines. i was laying in mud. he was growling. he wouldnt stop clawing at me. so i kicked him. probably ten to twenty times, each one stronger than the last. then i hit, and i couldnt stop. his nose was bleeding. i was crying. he was grumbling. he just kept getting up and i just kept hitting and clawing and ripping. my body felt broken and swelled. he finally laid down in my fathers tractors tire tracks. i felt sick. i noticed i was bleeding from cuts on my chin and my stomach. he didnt say anything. i crawled under him and watched the moon. his coat was heavy from the mud and i dragged him across an acre of farm to his toyota. i shoved him in the passenger side and drove him home. i left him in his front yard. i came back home and looked at my face. for the next week, i would wear bottles of foundation and still not be able to cover black eyes. his car seats had deep maroon stains from where my elbows were cut from falling. i dropped his car off the next morning. he was on his precious couch. he didnt appologize. i threw the keys at him and left. i hope he doesnt call but i miss him anyway.
d-land