The violin
Then piano
Galvans to
Those unsaid surfaces
And they said to her
You’re a woman of sulphured words surely
Everything you think and feel is written
She smiled inwardly
Wanting to reply with busted teeth and a ripped out shirt, screaming
Hell, you assholes know everything, don’t you hot shot?
Some of us who write
Have more inside than any forest
Could become burning paper
Like an iceburg you think you see our entirity
We are mere dancers on the tip
Of a very deep sink of ice and water
Where undertow and mania pull the marionette
In gizes of wellness, denial, sorrow and unquenchable thirst
Which do you want first? The knife or the open legs?
Don’t dare presume you know how heavy I bleed
Share a slapped drag of my pain
I’ll writhe for you across landscapes of shame
Hit me with something harder dear
You ain’t even close to exposing me
The core of this unchained symphony
Here, let me show you baby
Look in-between, past the guts and garters
What I had to do, to get even equal
When scars are words and stars
But wounds?
No they don’t get put in a book and closed
You can’t see me in that private torment
4am pulling on the leathers of my sleeplessness
Do you know why I never learned to rest?
Remember the feeling of violence caressing your bruises?
Kiss them for me darling then pour the gasoline
When your own hand fondles the blaze it’s too much insanity
Fucking by the scold like the last feeling on earth
No you don’t know what words reveal
Until you see them scratched deep into skin
There you go again, thinking what I write lifts the veil
It was shredded long ago and hung on a Deadwood
The pinpricks of my ache fertilized nothing
Dust to dust, sometimes there’s no fucking translation
Aw, shit…
“Don’t dare presume you know how heavy I bleed
Share a slapped drag of my pain
I’ll writhe for you across landscapes of shame
Hit me with something harder dear
You ain’t even close to exposing me
The core of this unchained symphony
Here, let me show you baby
Look in-between, past the guts and garters
What I had to do, to get even equal
When scars are words and stars
But wounds?”
When it’s this emotional and the anger and pain are bleeding at the seams, it’s best.
Indeed, there is a primal experience before its attempted translation into words. Bend, twist, stretch, and massage clumsy, recalcitrant language as they will, even the best poets can only offer narrowed glimpses and hints of that reality of themselves and the world, and the exsticy and terror of love.
❤
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – Dare to think all is revealed – Ha!
Very profound, I felt your pain!
Such raw anger – well justified
Outstanding, C 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻
That’s a lot of raw pain
A lot of pain here. I feel it in my nerves and sinews.
Wow. That reached right inside me and ripped my guts out.