I Sit Here Exploited

I sit here exploited
so, I let the cigarette exploit me
I exploit it until I have used it all up
til it is only ashes between my fingertips until
the world is ashes between the fingertips of God
my parent’s divorce scar my body
all the divorces scars on the body of the Lord

I sit here exploited
numbed from the beatings my dad gave to my mother
I belonged to my father’s violence, and was apart
of my mother’s victimization,
I am the assimilation of violence and pain
what else could I become but a “cutter”?

I sit here exploited
the word bitch is a voice inside my head
my father’s word for my mother
a word I gave to myself to mean

I sit here exploited
I screamed for years
a dead empty scream
that had no expression
and I screamed that nothing
scream for years until I bled

I sit here exploited
I prayed secretly
that his violence wouldn’t
invade me
whenever he raised his voice
sirens would go off inside my head
and I would take out an invisible
gas mask not to choke on the chemicals
of their hatred

I sit here exploited
chewed my fingernails bloody
watching the police handcuff
him and take him away for the day
my heart bled tears for him
my soul bled tears for the bruises
blackening on my mother’s skin

I sit here exploited
insomnia and I play
solitaire everynight
and the demons grab
me by the neck and cover
my mouth to keep me from
praying to God

I sit here exploited
now a woman whose
body was loved then
tossed, and hated then
discarded, I relive
my parent’s chemistry
volatile sex and even
more volatile intimacy

I sit here exploited
I cut my skin not to cut
myself deeper than
you have cut me
and I have not known
living without being cut
to the bone
and my bones don’t know
what it’s like not to suffer
they know nothing but sticking
the pins inside the doll
the pins belong inside me
and I’m really a pincushion
and I’m not comfortable without
the pins being inside me
and I can’t live with the pins
inside me anymore

but they don’t know how to live
without being stuck hard and deep
my flesh begs to be knifed
every once in awhile
so I have to knife myself
in order not to kill myself
so where’s the knife?

you broke my heart
damn you for getting
me used to rejection
and I don’t know what not
being rejected is like
and I crave not to be

I continue to call
because I know you don’t
want me
and that’s why I call
to be seared by your
continual indifference
and I like the burns
the smoldering burns
your words like acid leave
every time you say I can’t see you

like fire it tickles me and leaves
the holes the next day
but I need the holes
and I’m afraid of the terror
the emptiness of not having you sit
there and burn those holes into me
will bring

I sit here exploited
and I let the cigarette burn
into my flesh til I have used
it all up and it is only ashes
between my fingertips
until the world is only ashes
between the fingertips of God


I Sit Here Exploited

Matty B. Duran

Joined July 2009

  • Artist

Artist's Description

This poem was written in the summer of 1999. I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder in 1989. For years i struggled and suffered with it, until i finally gave it to Jesus.
I wrote this when I was in one of those de-personalized mood. When the world feels like a dream, and you are un-real to the world.

desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.