I pull cover over, cull eclipse of dead skin I collect
Hand scratching at neck nervous tic
I forget touch of nail to skin
Could my self be caught?
Ratchet eyes twist to see the next moon floating across the sky curved
Oblige words disconnect and connect swoop pitch and crush
Tulips from nostrils, obstacle of forgetting, fragrance drift open
Vacant slits again you find your way in me.
Sick Bitch you gnaw at me bone and raw
I lean on you, pale, the cause
Myself in need
You turning me.
kt
sometimes I want to create things that are ugly ana uncomfortable and sometimes I want beauty. its balance. sometimes uglier things are beneficial, more beauty there actually, more beauty in becoming something its not.
2 comments:
These words leave my heart in a weird place. It's like someone else's wound that upon seeing you can feel too. I really feel for the narrator of this poem...the caught between a rock and a hard place feeling. They want to become a better person but not through others; through bettering themself before they incorporate the outside would into that newly-defined self.
That commentary may sound like one big mumble but this piece really makes me sad, and I love it. Misery rules sometimes.
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