Jeffrey L. Grabov
a name I’d never forget.
He made one of the strongest impacts
on my memory out of anyone,
even though I thought he didn’t exist.
He invoked my ire from within,
and as a nonsensical child
I was consumed with the fact that my ex-girlfriend
had another dirty old man after her.
It wasn’t enough that my final farewell forced upon me
the kind of duress that I would wish I’d never experience anything
like at any other moment in my life,
at seeing another innocent little girl being tortured.
I’ve never witnessed the thing with my eyes and their frail bodies
in the same room but I sure as hell have seen the scars.
Too many to bear for one young girl. I had witnessed the crimes of the elderly.
I’ve tried to escape this history of suffering,
but it is not mine to abandon when self-worth is irrelevant.
Power and control have been immortal, they’ve been used to prevent chaos
by ignorant humans, when in reality the two ideas have been the arbiters of disorder.
There have been so many seemingly transparent glass walls
that could never be passed through, although they’ve been painted over only in a half-hazard manner.
Jeffrey Grabov knew everyone,
the old way, he listed all the ways he would fuck me,
and I believed the fuck out of him. My friends and I drunkenly thought of ourselves as heroes,
we would catch a predator
yet that wasn’t the case.
They looked like 8 year old girls
a blonde and a brunette
in the back of a fucking limo, just goes to fucking show.
The slime was kissing one and had the others tiny mouth glued to his shameful dick.
The image was ingrained forever. He was holding her down, a child.
What a grandiose concept you know, owning another entity.
It’s beyond sickening. As if we even own ourselves.
I sat on the beach and brought each pebble together.
They shall collude with one another like we do, my thoughts.
Live with one another freely, no one knows exactly what it means.
Be respective of being, not the so called justice that has been holding us down by the throat.