The myth of Misandry; Why The Slumflower isn’t wrong.

I lay in silence.

He lay on top of me.

I cleared my throat.

He refused to get up.

I raised my hand.

He ignored it.

I told him he was hurting me.

A group of men appeared.

I told them he was hurting me.

They told me they’d do me no harm.

I told them it hurts when they watch and say nothing.

They stopped watching.

I pleaded with him to stop hurting me.

He told me he wasn’t.

I told him I was in a great deal of pain.

He said he couldn’t feel a thing.

I screamed at him.

He told me I was getting on his last nerve.

I shuffled uncomfortably.

He told me to stop moving.

I punched and I kicked and I yelled to be free.

He looked down, tears in his eyes, “Stop! You’re hurting me.”

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Chapter 3; The little lost boy.

A cold foot to his left cheek wakes him. For a minute he forgets where he is. Brighton is so beautiful but he’s not there to see the sea. He does not sell shells on the sea shore, and the pebbles he carries from block door, to car door, he did not obtain from the beach. Read more

Scared.

The laws of physics state that opposites attract

And it is a fact that lately we’ve been repelling

And it’s so telling that,

I’m scared.

Not of what we are right now but of what we could be if we just were

Because I’ve never felt safe before but I feel safer with you close. Read more