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EnzoversePoems
My arms slide off like loose sleeves, my legs detach with the groan of rotten hinges. I sit in the corner, needle between my teeth, stitching frantic crosses into skin that unravels before the thread even knots. I’ve tried glue, thick, chemical stench choking my lungs. but the seams peel back as if my body rejects permanence. Tape curls at the edges, flimsy as the promises I make to myself: you will stay, you will hold. Each night I gather my pieces, a scavenger of my own anatomy, picking bones off the floor like dropped utensils, wiping blood from the tiles with trembling hands. I whisper apologies to every limb, but they do not listen. They want freedom. They want distance from me. I wake to my fingers littered across the sheets, my jaw askew, my ribs sliding down my chest like broken shutters. I hammer them back in with shaking fists, but the body is stubborn, a house that refuses its owner. And still I sew, I glue, I tape, I bind, begging the carcass to remember me. But the more I plead, the quicker it falls. Until I am a pile, a scattered hymn of parts, a chorus of silence laid out on the floor, and the echo in the room is laughing, because nothing wants to stay with me not even my own skin.
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Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025 at 4:57 PM UTC
Anatomy Of Refusal
My arms slide off like loose sleeves, my legs detach with the groan of rotten hinges. I sit in the corner, needle between my teeth, stitching frantic crosses into skin that unravels before the thread even knots. I’ve tried glue, thick, chemical stench choking my lungs. but the seams peel back as if my body rejects permanence. Tape curls at the edges, flimsy as the promises I make to myself: you will stay, you will hold. Each night I gather my pieces, a scavenger of my own anatomy, picking bones off the floor like dropped utensils, wiping blood from the tiles with trembling hands. I whisper apologies to every limb, but they do not listen. They want freedom. They want distance from me. I wake to my fingers littered across the sheets, my jaw askew, my ribs sliding down my chest like broken shutters. I hammer them back in with shaking fists, but the body is stubborn, a house that refuses its owner. And still I sew, I glue, I tape, I bind, begging the carcass to remember me. But the more I plead, the quicker it falls. Until I am a pile, a scattered hymn of parts, a chorus of silence laid out on the floor, and the echo in the room is laughing, because nothing wants to stay with me not even my own skin.
I loved writing and reading this over and over.
#visceral#sad#pain#body#love
Written by
Enzoverse
18/F/United States
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025 at 4:57 PM UTC
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