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Poem Number 20336
a few years back
you wrapped your strong arms around me in the dark
I closed my eyes and felt your bulging muscle beneath my hand
ahh safe at last, now
it doesn't matter that i can't turn a light on, not one light in the whole house
your muscle twitched and you leaned close to my ear
your breath moved my hair aside
and your demon voice sent a chill down my spine
I turned but in you crawled, your deep voice growling
and rattling my bones
my eyes welling with tears
because i've never been so scared in my life
you climbed in the hole in the back of my neck
and made yourself at home.
you, scraping your wicked beetle-skin nails down
the inside of my spine
you, burrowing and tunneling your shadowy holes
through my soul
you building slippery walls that get in the way
of my ability to feel, my right to love
you twisting your tongue into bleeding tornados
that have been slowly seething for years in my chest
in my gut
how about you get the fuck out
you swisscheese demon
it's emotive, it's easy to relate to, it's extremely vivid, it's just very tightly written...
indeed, what a vivid piece! Drm
Thank you so much for your comments. Sometimes I find that the comments, when they are given, are glimpses into the writer commenting. I wish more people would be so courteous as to give a point of view, positive or negative. It's the criticism that urges us onward, that pushes us to be more careful and creative writers. I do not come here to dump on everyone, but to seek help in improving my skills, and inspiration from fellow scribes. I find gems in comments on other people's poems even more than my own.... Thank you once again for taking time to explain why you liked my writing.
sorry i didn't say more: sometimes we only have time to give a quick note and can't get into detail...
I love this. It's an addiction to a person. When you know how bad they are for you and you try to break away but you are always drawn back. They are so transparent and you see all the signs and you know they are dangerous, but still.... well done. ms
I see alot of anger and darkness.. awesome... ~LJ
It is interesting how each person can interpret a thing differently. This poem is actually written about an experience I had while sleeping. I awoke and felt afraid, and I couldn't see very well. I flipped on the light but it didn't work, so I ran to my living room and reached for the chain hanging from the fan. That light wouldn't come on either. I ran to the kitchen, and then to the bathroom, fear welling up inside of my chest deeper and darker than those times when you're a kid and you imagine someone's following you down the stairs. I ran back through my room and into the living room again, a horrid lump gathering in my throat as I pulled the chain over and over and still no light. Suddenly there were arms around me from behind, and I relaxed into them, relieved. I thought it was my man, I felt his smooth bicep muscle and it was familiar. And then, came the whispering in my ear. It was not in english and it was growly like a demon. It sent a chill through my body so fast I thought I'd pass out. It stole my breath away and I couldn't even scream. I started praying for God or jesus or anyone less scary to help me and finally, after it had dragged me outside to my front porch, I sat straight up in bed, breathless, and flipped on the light. Needless to say I grabbed my newborn baby and jumped in the car, and got the heck out of there for the rest of the night. Eight years later I just discovered I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and that's the demon that makes me feel abnormal and insane. The demon that stole my heart and my ability to feel love. I would say that anger and darkness are definately present in this poem, for me at least, but there is no addiction to a person. Maybe in some twisted way I have become addicted to the numbness I chronically feel. But I sure would like to get over that. Any suggestions?
You have a way with words, poetry and prose. I like explanation of the poem as much as the poem. Seems this might be a problem for a therapist to help you through. Meantime, I don't think writing it out hurts. If you care to, share with us the cause of this disorder you have and what steps you've taken to conquer it.
The above poem made me think that there are worse things even then degenerative arthritis and the slow physcial journey to death. Evil, pure and simple, is much worse. Hurting someone with words, much worse. We all have that evil in us. The man and the woman who love each other deeply can still confront one another secretly or openly as two evil beings. You hear people say, "But he was so nice (example Robert Blake), he couldn't kill anyone. We all could. A lot of us are saved the grace of Jesus. A lot of us are kinder than others.
It's funny but I went to a therapist for the first time a day or two before I wrote this poem. I went back a week ago for my second visit, thinking ahh, finally, a ray of light a beacon of hope. I had a mental breakdown about 1/2 hour before my appointment, arrived a little late, a little weepy and the guy recommended MEDS. What a bastard.
I hope things are better for you now, above commenter. Life is so strange and unpredictable. I hope it smiles on you now.
Why is he a bastard? If it were your first visit and you had been crying, isn't it reasonable to assume maybe you're depressed? Medication can help alleviate the immediate depression and give the therapy a chance to start working.
I just don't agree with drugs, especially after only two visits. He might try and do his job. Plus, he isn't a psychiatrist, he's a psychologist. It was illegal for him to recommend meds. he's a dipshit, that's all I have to say.
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