Womb Justice

‘Where’s your kids at? I have mine. Time is ticking.’ – known imbecile

Gone are the days that people are proud of you for all you’ve accomplished, starting from the pits of society. Don’t seek them as they’ve been eradicated.

My credentials are visible to those that wish to see them. I’m not a foghorn or a viral social media post. I’m Unique.

I’ve spent a lot of time focused on my interests. I’m assigning large quantities of time to my creative pursuit. Makes no difference in the eyes of a known individual who recently mocked my womb.

A womb that is ageing with each passing year, ridiculed for not yet producing offspring.  *Don’t take a moment to see if a woman is medically okay!

Air your deep thoughts during a discussion about facilities in a household that is not shared. They felt it was fair to desecrate on my womb credentials – ‘time is ticking.’

There are some people throughout my life that I’ve stepped back from and stopped talking to. The cut-off. The known individual has been added to this category of ignorance.

No woman should be made to feel inadequate based on the thoughts of an ignorant form of existing life.

No woman should be made to feel useless because their womb has yet to bare seeds.

No woman’s education should be discarded because known individuals believe women belong in the kitchen and caring for children.

No woman should have to experience the levels of disrespect that I recently went through.

To the known individual,

Your comments shot through my existence ten-fold. I’ll never forgive your ignorance.

The fact you feel your docile mind has any room in the world to comment on any womb is beyond me.

Your current partner has a womb.

Your daughter has a womb.

Will you impose the same taunts onto them?

I wonder if your role was reversed and you experience the nightmares many women face. If you’ll still make scornful comments.

I’ll never forgive your Incomprehension on mindfulness and basic respect.

Always remember your comments and do express them to your partner and your daughter if ever they face similar womb trials and tribulations.

I believe in equality and fairness.

Don’t stop being sexist on account of my womb.

Regards,

Unique

Writers Life

I’m a writer that can’t write. Because when I write it ain’t right!

My grammar and punctuation suck and my verb tenses are fucked up.

They said, ‘Unique, you can’t write. Keep to a private diary.’

I replied, ‘shut the fuck up, using pieces like Clip, Bagel and Fuck!’

Hemingway.

I write anyway.

I state every day.

I care in many ways.

For those unbelievers, I’m an Atheist all day.

Laugh at me.

Curse down.

‘I don’t care’ – Foxy Brown

I could give a burning fuck if you rate me or not.

I’m a writer that can’t write.

I’m a Writer that will operate on you using only words.

Now count down from ten…nine…eight…

KAREN

Dear Karen(s)

I hear your complaints.

I see your complaints.

I smell your complaints.

As an existing form of life, you are worthless.

Your thoughts are nonsensical.

Your vision is white.

Your tactics are deployed when you wish to step on those with rich hues.

LIAR

LIAR

LIAR

Karen, I see you form gangs in offices.

Karen, I see you form gangs in apartment blocks.

Karen, I see you form gangs at BBQs.

Karen, I see you form gangs in the supermarket.

Karen, I see you form gangs during annual leave.

Karen, I hear you cry wolf to authority.

Karen, I hear you cry wolf to the police.

Karen, I hear you cry wolf to other white people.

Karen, I hear you cry – I see no tears.

Karen, I see you on your vigilante escapades.

Karen, I see you acting like a victim in our society.

Karen, I see you bulling people with rich skin tones.

Karen, I see you hitting people with beautiful skin tones.

Karen, I see you pull a gun!

SHAME

SHAME

SHAME

Karen, you’re racist!

Karen, you’re prejudice.

Karen, you’re ignorant.

What a waste of precious heartbeats – Unique

Don’t Expect

Don’t expect me to be the one to say yes! Yes, I accept below-par experiences.

Don’t expect me to be the idiot that ignores your shit. I see it, I smell it, fuck off – I stepped in it.

I’m not the one. I’m not the one.

Don’t expect me to express love in a way that resembles what you deserve.

Don’t expect me to accept the bullshit you play on. Play with and share out.

I’m not the one. I’m not the one.

Don’t expect me to trade my time for your time when your time is never my time.

Don’t expect me to remain silent when your feathers are in full plumage.

I’ll never water myself down…my feathers enjoy the signs of the air. Take me straight or fuck out of here.

My title was Unique, long before the big bang. Or the theory behind the minds of those who still argue about facts.

Remember that. Remember that. Remember that.

Snakes Invade my Space

Snakes Invade my Space

They wear suits.

They appear friendly.

They stab your soul and act as you’ve harmed them.

Their lies are accepted by those who look akin to their reflection.

They wear burgundy, they dress professionally.

They spread lies – faster than coronavirus.

They breed and multiply, they outlive the good ones. It’s like they never fade away and die.

Snakes slither around my feet, acting weak and in need like their life is deep and unseen by Unique.

They don’t strike out and bite into my Achilles muscle. They slither back and report I stomped on their heads. The slither by again, slower than the first time, they smile as they’ve successfully poisoned the ignorant heartbeats, within my space.

A group of snakes can hiss the same shit, they can do that daily. This does not equal the truth being reiterated by one.

 A pit of snakes slid through my path, they tricked the masses and smiled at me during the process. Upon reflection, I now realise your life was never more than an insignificant birth.

Harassment

The bus was crowded but I boarded as the weather was awful and I needed to get home.

There was no space so I stood near to doorway, the driver shouted for us to move further down the bus, but there was nowhere to for us to go.

I held on tight to the nearest bar and tried to avoid leaning into people when the bus made hard turns. That’s when I felt your coat, sliding across my left arm. Back and forth, once was enough – but then it continued, I looked around and I looked at you, but you did not look at me. The texture I felt had vanished.

You looked ahead in the direction you were facing and that was beyond my presence.

I froze.

I turned away. The bus swayed and came to a halt, it wasn’t my stop but I had to inch closer to a lady standing beside me. I had no choice but to make room for the other passengers.

The bus continued and I was no closer to home than when my journey started 8 minutes ago. I felt your coat again, sliding up and down my lower back. I was too scared to turn around, so I moved my handbag and for a moment, you stopped.

A minute or two later, you pressed against me and I could feel your…

That night I felt violated on public transport.

That night I wanted to scream, ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ but I lost my voice.

That night my mind was pushing me to push my way through the others and get off at the next stop – but it was dark, and the rain was heavy, and I had no money to get another service.

That night you chose me.

That night you touched me, over and over again.

That moment, I couldn’t even cry, shout, speak, move, I was frozen.

Everything is Rosy

I’ve never met a man like you before.

You challenge me.

I’m excited.

I’m gushing through my white lace panties.

Currently, I’m dating an amazing man.

We have great sex and commitment.

He’s consistent.

Shout out to our future darling.

Everything is rosy.