Battered As You Like It....

I live in fear of my friends finding out that I'm not a real battered wife. Don't get me wrong he beats me senseless. I'm a fixture in casualty, I've stayed in a refuge twice but my suffering doesn't feel authentic, real even to me. Let me display the boiled and rinsed bones for you.

I'm minding my own business, I feel a punch or a kick, it doesn't matter which. I feel the familiar tightness and wetness in the snatch but try telling Women's Aid that, to be fair and I am fair , angelic , maternal without being frumpy, phobic about fat and age and a fraud. I am practically perfect in every way or I try to be. I don't like sex but I like the cuddles. Kissing is good when he has stubble and my face is worn to the thinnest rice paper. I like to look raped in the morning.

So like I said I'm whipping up a ready meal and feel a blow. That is a good night. That is a hot night. That is a night when I scream and sob out of curiously dry eyes and the neighbours come, followed by the police and I say officer 'him? beat me? he'd be fuckin lucky'. They go away and I remain in charge. Notwithstanding the above I do want and deserve your sympathy my marriage will fail otherwise.

The best and most beautiful nights are those when I goad him past the point of endurance. In my head I call it bullfighting, the books call it love, the modern world calls it abuse. I provoke a fight and as the beating reaches it's crescendo I scream and scream and scream. The neighbours rush in and there I am ripped clothes, spreadeagled, ecstatic in my agony, a crucifixion on the kitchen floor nailed to love, libido and my own garish, soap opera exhibitionism. True martyrdom won't work without an audience.

My big moment, my ecstasy is when he's worn himself out with beating, questioning and running. He comes to my breast , nibbles like a giant, stubbly baby and moans sorry, sorry, sorry, I love you again and again. That way I know I've won and always will.

Thud

Thud, dazzle, thud, dazzle thud, dazzle and so on. I cannot say I am happy. I merely have a place and everything should be in it's place. Dirt is just matter in the wrong place. I am not dirt so must never leave my place.

It's all on the NHS, I know what you've read but I've never had to shit the bed. As long as you don't get the runs the work to rule can't touch you. Speaking of shit we have a new wheeze. Vi brings in razors and we secrete them on our persons.

In this place a young nurse is sent to watch you shit and piss, we wait till she's distracted and embed razors in our shit just to see the look on her face when she examines our bedpans.

The one bit of advice I have for newbies is never leave a Barbie head in your bedpan. They will regard that as a cry for help. They respect razors because they are sane. I am mad but they inspect my shit for no good reason. I think the Americans would say -go figure.

I'm going home, I've done my time.

I remember when I was wee, I used to sit in my dad's car and watch him drive so I'd pass my test first time. No lessons it's all in the eyes. In the end I couldn't be arsed. Upside is I can get drunk. Downside is I take the bus.

Fat semi downs face three weans, one whopper of a pram flings her phone across the bus and weeps. A decent person would intervene. Instead I watch it like any other soap. I never really believed that other people have feelings or at least the same feelings I do. I expect she only cries because she can't find the words.

The inevitable farting contest up the back. Average age 19. They talk about pumpin lassies. One lassie is a 'fuckin donkey' but one doesn't look at the fireplace. Her party piece is shitting the bed. One lad kept going, the other punched fuck out her, the rest fuck her when they're desperate. Who is she? I've never shat the bed so I know it isn't me but do people talk about me like that. Like I'm a repulsive mass of dead nerves, fine for fucking in a drought and little else.


Sometimes I wish I could slaughter that flatulent 'back of the bus'. In fact I wish I could all the time. Something quick and sudden. I'd love to see the look of shock on their faces as they die in the most unlikely of massacres. Years ago I would have wanted to reason with them but I'm tired. I'm always tired. My grannie had rickets, her sisters had smallpox, my mother caught a cold and I caught the bad head gene and an unquenchable desire for sleep.


Two African women to the right. They look like statues. It's not their colour that makes them look out of place. They're clean, quiet and proud looking. The style on the 41 is tired, pasty, dumpy and full of rage with no obvious target. Do try to keep up. Mind you I'll bet they're stenchers like the rest of us. Everyone is a disappointment.

The inevitable pensioners. 'Ye wouldnae wear red tae a funeral'. Well I would but I don't but in. I want off this bus before the 22nd century. 'Ye wid wear the darkest jaiket te huv', 'aye darkest jaiket'. I'd wear the skin of a dead grannie, I think.

Fight with the driver. 'ye dae go tae the Forge'. 'Aye hen only if the bus goes backwards.

That's my cue. Off to wet feet, possible trenchfoot, blisters and French fancies for tea. Just get this shite out of my head. Too much.

This Is Not My Desire

Repent in hell fat boy. Daddy got you with the butchers knife right across your white slug neck. Wish I'd been there. Snatch pants for red on grey.

Fucking on the sill of floor 19. I should have known an odd number can't bode well. Your Friendly Butcher. My hostile cunt. We'll keep the jam rag flying. You are the son of bloody Pollok scum. Fear of heights is a terrible thing. More so when then it outweighs the fear of violation and dishonour. I still breathe. You can't fat fucking son of the scheme hoor.

Taking a doing is never easy. He bought me a tab and sent me mad with unwanted fucks and bad hippy music. I am the lizard king but I'm broken and can't do anything. Them was rotten days and he made me rot black like damp beast ridden wood.

Unpacking The Heart.

Sleep, the night, the knife didn't take me, so I unpack. The books, the information and lastly the case of evidence. Three of Brian's bland blonde pit hairs. I never got near enough for pubes. Smiddy's chewing gum, Kim's rail tickets now there was a boy who could lose his head when all around him stayed sane.

Davie's demo, Larry's essay, Jaf's contempt stays in my head. These arent notches on my bed post they're scars. The night Jose fucked Laura on my bed I slept on the floor and scarred the titties with a Bic. Only scratching the surface. That's it with the self harm game. You never get deep enough to cut out the cancer, or if you do you die. Not that I wanted him, I just didn't want her to have him. What can I say I was alone dumped and bitter.

My heart never broke, it iced over. Remove from it the carnage and throw it to safety like a brides bouquet hitting concrete. Run away, if only I could. Let it shatter and rain down into you all and poison your fish. Sixteen pages from Emma Christie's diary. Jennifer is ugly, Jennifer is a slag, Jennifer eats with her hands, Jennifer is trash, Jennifer is a benson, Jennifer is a psycho. She makes me look good, that's why I allow her to speak to me. Sixteen hairs from a dead whores cunt. I stick them to my chest and make the bitch call me Martin.

Ha fuck you big beak fucked three of your men and gave your dad a KB. Did you really imagine Beryl was his only go at adultery? Fuck Face. Big Beak. Fat Arms. Fat Arse. Uh huh. I am the Elvis of slags.

Andy got the bloody sheet. Except I never bled so we did it again to make sure I was really broken. I could have mentioned that I broke my own hymen ages ago but I didn't want to spoil the mood. In any case butcher boy raped and pillaged between our fucks. The right wall of my cunt still burns when I'm angry and I'm fucking raging all the time.

Lawerence's skull cap (nicked) -look it was anthropology OK. Beside I dress up as a Jewish boy in private and masturbate to the collected speeches of Chairwoman Mae West. If you believe that you'll believe that I communicate with Al Jolson via email. Look he was a bet.

Lt Gavin's gun. Ha my arse he offered me a union flag but I asked for a gun. I pissed on it and he chucked me. I never was an army wife and in any case I didn't know it was from Goose Green. It said 'Made in Taiwan on the label.

Jamie can't come to the phone, he's in the garden with his father. So out of my league there. Not to mention bored.

I won't have a word spoken against Scott. What he lacked in dick, he had in balls. Didn't stop him stamping me into the dirty, bloody ground. Craig was an expensive rent boy with a lean but useful cock and sod all between his ears. The other Craig was better. Kian is the king of oral and if you can't see your name here it was the drink but the drunk driving boy with the tea towel is the best fuck in the world.

Louise served her purpose, broke down and died.

I think it was Professor Benatar that said love is a battlefield.

I am the general.

The Will To Live

Last day, same as the first. The Tigers in the zoo are all on Prozac and there's a big fucking outcry about cruelty. I deal with people, places and fucking drivel every day that would put a tiger on crack. That's life, shut up, accept your lot. Everyone is right except you. You really are out of step, out of touch. Worthless, irrelevant, ugly. Scum. Failure. The black stench of rot. This would never have happened if you'd listened to mummy. Your perfect cousin points the way.

Apparently there have been 'comments'. Have I really spent three decades maturing nicely to take this shite off a failed machinist? In a better world she'd never have been born. Fat, devious, hunchback bitch. I am a human being. I believe in spirits. I read books. I am valid. Squashed under the heel of a naff TK Maxx boot. This is hell at the rangers end.

Smack the paper. Move it round the desk. Sixteen lives and none of them get better. The mad, bewildered, simple, lost and the chancers. Bring them to me and I'll keep them in their place. They call this radical in the bosses circles. Say goodbye to the pigs.

Watch the clock. Twenty, thirty, forty minutes late out the little door. Will the bus to break some speed limit? Home to dreams that won't come true. The fortuitous friend I'll never meet. The revolution we won't start together. The breaking away from the family. The meeting of my potential. The life of joy. The help I really need. The leeches growing breeches. The trick is to believe it for long enough to get a rest.

Keep taking the pills for the chance to start it all again. This is the will to live. This is the life when you are cured. I am not mad. Put on the music and live in the better world.

Bunch O Pies

Two dead eyed junkie bastards. Nothing is worth this money. I'm a man, a player. I am the motherfucker and then twenty. I want money, I want a car, I want all the easy cunt I can fuck. CSA can't touch me. Fact is I am the man. I have all I want except all the territory, the respect and a hairless back. Wouldn't mind a go of the boaby up up shitehole but that's private. See the shitey flowers on dual carriageways, those are my notches. Wee fucking fannies. Watch out Frannie's coming through.

How do I get out of here? Sixteen hours and nae cunt. Can't stand the stink of fanny and cheese. Pair of boggers. Fuck, fuck , fuck. Darlin sweaty bitch I'm so sorry. Gob jobber. One minute I'm psycho, killer kes ke sayz fuck fuck fuck. Then I'm scaredy boy. Need to get out. Pair o' fuckers under the bed. Nae evidence.

'Aye pal just come up'. Fucking concierge wank. He's coming up with the polis to kick the door in. Like I'm going to let them walk in here. I'm clear. Then I'm mental but never at the same time. Whit the fuck dae ah dae with the forensics? Knife? Screwdriver? Gun? Lads! Ma Team! Ma POWERY!

Next fucking thing I'm in the cells. I fuckin never. I didnae. Fuck ye. Last man standin lock in. Other cunts would wash the blood off but I'm the fucking player, da playa, da man. The shitey mug. Some cunt lost the keys, called the cops and grassed. I'm too fucking clever. It's corruption. Or just shite luck.Cheated? Lick my third eye.