When you raped me the first time I was wearing shorts and a backless shirt and my hair was loose and I was young and beautiful and nothing bad could happen to me. Nothing we say nothing, because I had bodyguards fucking some fairies and an elf and a giant pink unicorn who, if they wanted my asshole, would skim you in no time.
I thought I was protected from you my rapist, from you my abuser, from you my abuser, from you the lowlife, from you the pressed shit, from you who came to rape and violate me. I thought I was protected by an amulet baptized in forty waves in pools of pearls, seahorses and little mermaids slowly dying of love.
This spell was my shield in my childhood years. They were what I knew, what I believed, what I grew up with, what I walked with. And with them I would have continued if you hadn't gotten in my way. And if you didn't fall again. And you did. And again and again and again. Take my body, my soul, my mind.
When you raped me, I was a girl in shorts. When you raped me I was a boy in the school bathroom. When you raped me I was a middle-aged girl with no credit cards. When you raped me I was your daughter. When you raped me I was your mother. When you raped me I was a soldier, I was a whore, I worked on the street, I worked in your fields, in your muffins, in your strawberries, in your supermarket, in your tavern.
I was working. And I didn't talk.
I was afraid not of you, not of your sweat and your dirty words. I was afraid to go home without a paycheck, I was afraid because expenses are running, bills are running, life is running in my absence and in the absence of my children. I was afraid. And I kept quiet.
When you raped me I wore shorts, I wore a burka, I wore nothing, I wore an ankle-length skirt, I wore an ankle-length skirt, I wore a blood-red slipper, I wore a carnation in my ear, I wore winds and storms in my rinsed hair. When you first raped me you were my lover, my husband, my pimp, my boss, my boss, my father, my neighbor, my stranger to me and my enemy. You found me on the street and cornered me, you ran into me one night and beat me up, you saw me at work and humiliated me, we lived in the same house and you threw me on the floor. Because you could. You just could.
“Ah, you Lavrentis, I who only knew what a scoundrel you were, what a phony pariah’ - born on a bad bed. There thy fate spat thee out like a roach, there with thy kind, those with the serpent eyes, the cobra tongue the matching tongue, and the white socks in the parade. Those who were vomited into this world by mothers Erinyes black-clad and shit-filled before their time with the shroud on their soul and the curse in their mouth.
“Oh, you ”Lawrence’ bastard, we'll never be like your face. We were born in the blue waters of a father coral and a mother butterfly, and from the bottoms of Botticelli we emerged goddesses, goddesses, and even though we fell in your fucking house, damn our luck.
Lavrenti, I've got some water for you to shit in your stocking. Things are changing, baby. Times are changing, the earth is going crazy and dancing on burning coals, people are becoming candles, becoming resurrection candles, becoming pony-tailed dolls and like a soft toy they kick their lives around and move it forward and forward. They walk in the arms of rainbows - and the further they go, the further you recede. And the further back you go, the further they go. Half a step at a time, one step at a time, and another and another, and put one for the road, master. Together, all together even in hell, you understand now?;
I've got some water for you, you giant boy. That's as far as it goes, that's as far as it goes, what you've done. Your old houses are not the homes of free men. The borders in our homelands are fenced with red hearts nailed to electric wires. And if you try to cross, the smell will give you away. Because the stench of shit in a sock is a big snitch, darling.
My first text in News247.gr dedicated to two women. To the imprisoned Melek Ipec who killed her husband after twelve years of abuse, rape and torture. And in Olympic champion Sofia Bekatorou who denounced the rape of, after twenty long years of silence.
P.S. Our friend Laurentis from the poem Epitymion by Manolis Anagnostakis.
