I came with him that night, it's true

And I tried to be his date

But I had already cum more than once with you

The encounter seemed like fate

And when I saw your glances cascading over me

As your hands and tongue once did

I tried to harbor some integrity

I left your sight, I ran and hid

Then you found me alone, out of view from all else 

And thrust my pelvic bone to yours

Told me you just couldn't help yourself

Awash with lust, it took its course 

Soon my date brought me home, I kissed him goodbye

But my night was far from done

I saw your car out the corner of my eye

That night was two for one

Giddy with excitement and some uncertainty

My mind going back and forth like a dance

Within a moment you were behind me 

Hand around me, then in my pants

I felt my heart beat inside my chest

And your thumping fingers inside me with ease

I felt my nipples errect upon my breast 

The thrill brought me to my knees 

As you bent me over you grabbed my neck

You knew I liked it rough 

In the bedroom I was at your call and beck

And I couldn't get enough

My roses are read

Letters to words as they are blooming 

But these floral thoughts stay in my head

Thorny, lovely, and all consuming 

It scratches and snarls inside of me

It's unending, relentless desire to flee

This unveiled horror owns, it encompasses, yet we

Refuse to unlink, it is stitched through my heart, through my mind, seeded deep within thee

The ache and the comfort of my familiar distaine

It rocks me, reminds me, "Be invisible. Be plain.

Thy own glory unreachable, no peace shall be obtained

With your everything, capability, exquisite words soar through thy brain

While you quiver as you detain them. 

For your past, your overwhelming shame!"

My ultimate hindersnce from the world is me, thus I must transfuse

The degredation muddling my veins, the blood my heart pumps through and through

With soul defiant to heart and mind, I choose Anderson, a new. 

Thus, I expose my heart, my mind, my soul. I show myself. It's here......for you.

It was 70, sunny, my radio up, my windows down. I turned a corner.....from the trees........hundreds........thousands of black.......birds? Beetles. They were in the car within moments. Thousands of little legs prying into my ears, digging up my sinuses, burrowing behind my eyelids. They fed on me as I screamed helplessly.

   I'm sure I'll survive as long as I write. Write it down, Purple. Get it out. Over the past 12 months of my life, my only goal has been to not cause harm to anyone else. I had these tendencies, these moments, where I was cruel and they began to multiply last year. You see, I felt no pain. Physically I felt amazing all the time and emotionally, no, mentally I was in control. It was like a miracle. I wasn't just in control of myself either, I seemed to control everyone around me. I didn't really understand at first, then I looked back at what had changed. I wouldn't put it together until I was out of control, until I had shared it with so many. I'll write it all down. I'll stop it from intoxicating everyone. I'll stop it because it's all my fault.

   I stared working at a very interesting place about two years ago. I had been arrested and it made finding a new job imperative to pay court costs and impossible because I was officially a low life on paper. It's right after you get out of court or out of jail that you start to consider which path you're going to go down. Every time things get hard, you get a push down the dark alley where you know things are exciting and a little bit easier. I always liked excitement. I always preferred a little chaos. Most importantly, I'm constantly pulled towards places and people who are no good. So when my parole office told me a maximum security mental institution was working with ex cons to rehabilitate them, I leapt at the job.

  "This might not be a good place for you, Purple." she tried to warn me. "Anderson Asylum is not only a dangerous place for a young lady due to the fact that it's literally filed with insane criminals, but they use controversial treatment. The work environment alone changes people. People go missing! People die there! " She cut herself off. It was like an invisible hand pinched her lips shut.

   "Then why tell me about it at all?!" I demanded, irritated as hell at the tease. She stared at me while she took three deep breaths. Her breaths were filled with intensity and what seemed to be remorse. I had planned to rant a bit more after her warning, but I was perplexed into a state of silence. What was going on with her?

   "Because I literally have to." I didn't understand. I didn't care. I didn't hesitate.

    I had almost arrived on my first day of work when the taxi suddenly jolted and stopped. A familiar feeling washed over me. You know when you're about to do something wrong, but you're pretty sure you're going to do it anyways because it's a rush? And there's electricity buzzing around in your stomach and chest? I felt that when the car stopped. We had a flat tire. I checked my watch and realized I only had 15 minutes to my shift.

   "Hey, I've got to get in there it being my first day and all. Do you need me to let anyone know you're here so they can help you?" I asked.

   "No. Send no one!" the driver insisted. "I  will be fine. Follow the road to the left when it forks and the entrance is right there." I nodded to the driver and began up the road. The feeling in my stomach was still there when I hit the fork in the road and it was about to worsen. I heard a faint whisper. I scanned the tree lines on either side of me. I had a small blade up my sleeve. I touched it a few times for reassurance but decided not to pull it out unless someone tried to touch me. I figured there were crazies upon crazies up the road and I was probably just hearing one of them.

   I passed the fork in the road and the whispering voice echoed to my left. My pace quickened with my heartbeat. I heard the whisper to my right this time. It was saying something starting with d. It was like an exhale. At this point I decided some psycho was messing with me, grabbed my knife out of my wrist scabbard, and sprinted to the gates. Each whisper became cleared and cleared the closer I got. I was almost to the gate when I felt the air from someone's mouth as they whispered a panicked, "Don't!" into my ear. I swung a closed fist around me, reaching to make contact with the perpetrator. The knife was in my other hand, pulled back and ready to slice whomever was tormenting me as I crouched on the ground. I scanned my surroundings. Nothing and no one was around me.    After I pushed my terror and confusion to the side of my mind, I realized I was armed and probably psychotic looking right in front of my new place of employment and a place that could lock me up if they wanted to. I was sunned when I check my watch.

I had five minutes until my shift started. I had not been walking for 10 minutes. Maybe this was a bad idea. I wondered if it was too late to back out. If I did, I'd violate the terms of my parole. The gates were too thick and too high to see inside. They were topped with barbwire and cameras. I wondered what they had seen. I wondered what they thought. What that voice was. A soft bell noise came from the intercom attached to the gate.

   "Welcome to Anderson Asylum. Are you checking in?"

   "Hello, my name is Ms. Push and I'm here to start work today." I desperately explained, praying I hadn't just lost my freedom.    "Please place your court order, your identification, and the knife in the basket under this intercom." Shit, I thought. Maybe it's a good thing I blew it already, I thought. I placed everything where the pleasant voice had asked me to and I waited. I scanned the tree line again. Then the gate began to open.

   "We've been expecting you, Ms. Push. Please come in."

"We have to," he explained as we gazed upon the castle. Even cloaked in darkness, the house sparkled. It was a four story stone mansion on 6 acres. There was nothing around us, yet, the walls of night seemed to be closing in on us. A panic attack took hold of me, pushing me to my knees, panting. "Think what happens if we don't get it. Jamie will get sick. I will get sick. This is the only time we know for sure that the doctor is out of town. What other suggestion do you have?!" He wasn't within 5 feet of me, but I felt his hands around my neck, squeezing out the 'yes' I reluctantly muttered.

We had a plan. We had a good plan. I was going to pick the lock, we would split up, each take 2 floors, find the box, and leave. He wasn't supposed to have a key or a gun or an ulterior motive. The dogs weren't supposed to be there either.

He proudly pulled a key from his pocked once we reached the back door. "How?" I questioned. I held up my hand and decided, "You know what? Don't tell me." We unlocked the door, I came inside first, and he closed the door behind him. We didn't take 4 steps before two black monsters came lunging at me. I turned for the door but there was no time. I stared at him while he shot the gun. It was so natural for him.

"Are you ok?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around me. "I didn't want to do that. They would have killed us." He rubbed the back of my head as he rocked me. He knew how to make me feel safe. "Someone might have heard that so we need to go and do this. Check bedrooms and bathrooms. It's in an orange box." I knew where it was. I had been in this house 100 times. The dogs would have killed us. That knowledge didn't change the vile feelings of remorse washing through me. I walked into the doctors bed room. I stepped carefully as I approached the linen closet inside his master closet. The box was in a paper bag under some blankets. I opened it on the bed without saying a word. I knew it was wrong and reconsidered letting him have it. The box contained 4 glass bottles and what looked like a Costco sized bag of needles. The bag of needles made me so uneasy that I slammed box shut. Little did I know, the sound of the wooden box shutting sealed my fate.

"Oh my god. You found it." he uttered with breathy amazement. He grabbed the box, clasped it shut, then took my hand. "Let's get out of here." There was no way I'd be able to convince him to leave some of the medicine for the doctor. The emotions coursing through me could no longer contain themselves: they found an escape through tears and sobs. He opened the box. "You don't understand yet. It's not something we should have to live without. And now we don't have to!" He was getting a dose ready. "You deserve this. I want to give it to you and now I can! You will always come first." He walked towards me with the needle in his hand. He took the back of my head and kissed my forehead.

"Please," I pleaded, "Not right now. I can't." I was trembling as I backed away from him. I thought about the dogs downstairs. I thought about how he got the key to the back door. I thought about how he gave me a home. I thought about how he saved me time and time again. Maybe he was going to save me again. He put the needle in my arm. "Everything is going to be better now," he reassured me.  

Words. Thoughts. Words. Thoughts. Words?! Thoughts?! I began to cry. Everything was incomprehensible. I wasn't able to move forward because the assignment of meaning overwhelmed me. Thoughts were simply words, while words were nothing but letters which someone decided had meaning. Was every sentence a string of labels ironically equating to nothing? I began to sob. The emotions washing over me nearly drown me. I no longer possessed the ability to do anything other than feel. I waded through them until another word besides 'words' or 'thoughts' blossomed inside my head. I sighed and thought the word relief. I cherished my ability to identify the emotion. I found comfort in my aptitude to communicate, even if it all was within my mind and to myself. The suppression of language subsided and I was able to transcend back to expression. Words are not an empty vessel used to postulate thought. Words are the tools our minds use to create and define our thoughts. They are our paint brush, our computer, our hammer, and our weapon. I wiped my eyes. I considered them again and thought the words with gratitude. Words. Thoughts.