Fuck You
by Carla Bozulich

Ben Is Dead, February 1997

The following piece was written by Carla Bozulich and is published in this month's Ben Is Dead magazine. It's handwritten in the magazine as a photo of a notebook page (with a note in the margin: "Darby. This is some things from my notebook. Love Carla B"). I've kept the original punctuation and spelling. The *emphasized* words are underlined in the original.

Fuck You        1-16-96

I'm starting at the end    Never bleeding never bend
over your eyes like apples taste sour sometimes
I look at myself like a bell that rings incessantly inside
Don't wander about the insides -- they're greedy they want so much
Your touch who are you a lizard, a beautiful brilliant dog,
  a buck -- running over rocks and sad days.
Your touches are completely satisfying
if wrong was encouraged Id be home now
but I sit flinching at imagined bugs - of coarse
Something is going to make me pay -- around every
corner. The felt hat pulled down -- collapsed over
his ears  he takes his filthy fingers to my throat -
my soft skin pulls like a fire alarm -- tearing 
slightly. I have been anticipating this damaged freak for so long.
Things like this don't happen to me anymore. Back then I
deserved it. This man doesn't know me, yet
he takes every permission I have granted all life-long
and rolls them into one giant Christmas
present to himself from On High. He feels his
newly aquired doll -- what facial expressions - what
a realistic fighting girl she is -- thank you
for the excellent Christmas gift -- the best ever.
And I know that he is ultimately correct. I am
the best -- right out of the box -- I snapped to
attention before I could spell my name I was
ready -- I was built to please this fucking 
prick and every other. I am the best. I'll
love you *any way you want*. 10 bucks. No bucks.
*I'll pay you*. Use your strength. Use your smarts.
Break out the heavy artillery. Hold me. Stop me. Try to hold
me. I want you. But in the end, I always get away.

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