"interrogated" poems
born in illusory chains
gnarled metal
encrusted in my broken skin
the copper colored dust
of rusted steel
infectiously envelopes
shaving off antiquated layers
of fundamentalist religion
encrusted for generations
unpeeled until raw
an unsophisticated method
unveiling
ancient lodged glass shards
colored with deceit
brought before their court
interrogated
unfathomably skewered
an eerie salem witch trial
in modern times
barbarically they shun me
banished
i wander aimlessly
smelling the rotten decay of deceased community
as splinters pierce my feet
from the crooked wooden plank
i walk alone now
an unfathomable inner ache
kindled a residue within
igniting a wildfire from the darkest shadows
uncontainably erupting
i dance savagely
naked in the orange moonlight
and in every shaded edge
lit my soul ablaze
i am a nomad sheep
‘tho not one of their color
no pasture to contain me
no shepherd i can follow
theological safety nets
no longer there to catch me
bohemian-like
i plunge
free falling
plummeting
stripped wide open
magically
fearlessness
reverses gravitation
floating
untethered
i soar amongst
apricot tinged clouds
my skin still wet from rebirth
and rise with the flaming coral sun
you cannot destroy me
i twisted in your decrepit pencil sharpener
and with fresh mettle
cut through the chains that bound
you can have my ego
but you cannot have my soul
dismantling domestication
transcending limitation
wildly untamed
i fly
©2016janetaylor
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 6:40 AM UTC
Enter a digital world and try to survive
A blur at hyper drive
Faster than the speed of sound
A heart burns with a whole new attitude
Maneuvering through each situation
Bruises and scars become cherished trophies
It's an obsession; a competition
Tough times, hard climbs
One more step up the ladder
Sweating as if one was being interrogated
Don't get complicated
Flip the coin and pray it's not a crime
Shackles shake calling out a name
Kiss the wind to escape
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
You tried to pull a gun on me.
I just pulled mine faster
But what you don't know is
Three days later
I put my gun to my head.
I couldn't live with the fact
That I almost pulled the trigger on you
That I was ready to stop your threat.
What you don't know is one month later
I still had nightmares
That I overdosed on pills
Hoping to never wake up.
Six months later
I still see your face
I still think of the what ifs
One year later
I still wake up screaming
Fighting your invisible threat.
One year and six months later
You voice still haunts me.
You were eager to **** be because I wore a badge and gun.
My coworkers ***** me.
Two against me.
What you two didnt see
The detectives interrogated me.
Told me I asked for it
I should have fought back
One day later the detective picks me up
I tried over dosing minutes before they came
They noticed the cuts but didn't notice
That I was falling fast
I couldn't keep my eyes open.
My speech was slurring
I walked like i was drunk
I made it through the **** kit
I got home and slept for three days straight
One month later i quit my job.
My body couldn't handle the stress
I kept dissociating.
Six months later
I still couldn't have ***
I started learning jujitsu
I had bought a gun
One year later
I was more confident
But i still feared ***
I feared men
I still had nightmares
Two years later
I'm still managing to struggle
I still hear your voices
Still see your faces
Still feel you in my dreams
Two years and six months later
I'm more confident.
I still have difficulty with men.
But now I am well on my way to be a police officer
An EMT
I can't let you win!
Ever!
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC
love between poets: “who will be between the sheets next week
when I’m gone,” she lets sigh-escape,
as she watches the backyard paradise parading landscape
of animals before the bay, perfect day sure to come,
her new pets obeying the early morn sunrising awakening call
to rise, everyone playing~parading, before her royal summons,
no coincidence, finger-of-god, two by two
this while I’m kissing her neck,
my arm around her *******
and the he-intent on slip sliding down
to the small of her back,
obeying his innate,
worship worshiping and giving up,
all he’s got intense intently contentedly
unfazed, unphased,
non-nonplussed,
he’s been interrogated before,
heart is pure he answers:
next weekend when you are back in situ,
thousands of miles away, airplane housed for hours,
writing poems of love from the lost and found,
recalling this exact moment,
how I worshipped your presence,
and these words:
You will be with me in every breath,
our sheets will radioactively emit
ions and molecules of our scent combined,
and present as present your perfume can be,
elicited, elixir, you and me combinant
she turns from the bay-view,
the animals who now mutually
worship her adoration,
watching, focused on us as observers,
she lifts me up and smiles,
replying*
“oh my lover you’re the cad of cads,
king of the baddest poet-lads,
the gist of what is wrong with the best of men,
her, pressing me hard to her chestnut hair chest,
she, falling down into my eyes
take me back to bed, liar,
let me add to my aroma,
to ensue, to ensure you will miss
the best love
you had partly, insufficiently, and unhinged
completely
I’m your lassie, you my lad,
my king of cads, my lover poet,
thief of my poems and my secret speech spells,
escalating senses of one’s imaginings”*
and,
along came the rest
of what was freely given,
for love between poets
man and
a woman,
is a someone, somewhere,
sometime summertime
thing
*I will still smell you in my
heart, and send to you ballistic missives,
words to explode your tear ducts
when you rest in sheets that met me,
when you’ll know me by my odors,
cry out loud so that you’ll scare our animals,
no matter how many tides wash away our residue,
you will never unknow and be forever unprepared
for my return,*
even though we will be each, a thousand unwritten poems away...
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
Bio chemical creation tracing the steps of evolution through the fetus
The blood trail seeps into flaccid lakes of genocide
Bottleneck effect on government induced laboratory experiments
Questioning the interrogated under kaleidoscopic examination
Believe me when I tell you to leave me alone
Reconstructing DNA strands of Darwin’s transgression
Molding to the perplexity of the world
Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 8:58 AM UTC
Inspector Dork was not pleased with himself
he had interrogated everyone in the house
only to be knocked down by
impenetrable alibi
Spouse Susan slept soundly through the night
and was awakened in the morn
when the alarm bell rang in his room
Daughter Debby's room was a floor down
she was up with her studies
plugged to earphones
Son Simon was out for the night
he was at his friend's place
for a birthday party
Maid Maddie made his bed
when the clock in his master's room
was chiming ten
Butler Bill having served a glass of milk
closed the door behind him
and retired for the night.
Inspector Dork was about to leave the victim's room
when his eyes fell on the clock pendulum
it was not swinging
he knew who was lying.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
It began as an indirect interest
Transformed into a simple acquaintanceship
Quietly building
A little unsure, both hopeful
He watched my favorite movies with me
I wish I could've invented a new word for cuddling; Our bodies fit like puzzle pieces that day
It left me feeling shaky and scared as hell when we finally parted
The first kiss was my favorite part
Not knowing what was going to happen next
I would've sat through thousands of his games
I always said I didn't want to
but I would've helped carry his equipment anywhere, anytime
His left eyebrow always challenged me
Your unshaven jaw always managed to find the perfect place against my cheek
I've never spent that much time on the phone
I can't imagine trying to laugh as quietly as possible in the latest hours of the night with anyone else
I can't describe it
That feeling when everything in the world is just right, because of one person?
That's not what this was
Because it was rarely ever right
This isn't a love poem
Puzzle pieces can't make up for endless arguments
Being ignored all night
Getting adjusted to the fact that "hockey friends" means that he's with his ex-girlfriend
Seeing hand-written letters from her still in his room when I finally gave everything
He was so in the wrong, so why was I being interrogated?
Controlling is not the word I’d use,
I was always given a choice
But what was I supposed to do
When he didn’t like anything I did but all I wanted was to be with him
"I don’t want you to go to that party
"I trust you, I just don’t trust them
"I’ll talk to you after this movie I’m at with all my female friends
"I don’t like how many guy friends you have
"Do you think he’s cute?
"Do you talk to other boys?
"Do you think about other boys?
"Promise?
"Tell me that you promise
"Are you lying?
"Tell me that you’re not lying
"You should tell me all the guys you were into before me
"I don’t like when you talk about your exes
"If you don’t want to argue then just hang up the phone
"Why do you always hang up on me?
"Why are you always mad about nothing?
"Why do you always start arguments?
Everything starts out innocent
But it’s not long before things began their descent
Getting to know people is exciting
Until you start fighting
Liking someone can be the best feeling in the world
But it’s never long before everything becomes unfurled
I’ve always heard that a good relationship takes compromise and hard work
I heard that in a good relationship you have to apologize for what you’ve done wrong
But eventually I was apologizing for everything and it didn’t even take long
So how long do you have to know someone before all the good in your relationship peaks?
How long do you have to know someone before they make a lasting impression?
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC
It was only last October
When you finally swept away
Any traces of our friendship
And you buried its remains
It triggered my escapism
So I could hide from nights of pain
I did not make the best decisions
But at least I was okay
I was reliant on the meds
So I would never have to face
The truth about our friendship
That was so clearly a mistake
And when you left for Houston,
It was then when I would break
I could not accept my reality
Which was keeping me awake
And the park where we would play
To pretend that we were eight
We knew we looked like idiots
But together, we were safe
But I realized I was in captivity
From the memories of that place
I was interrogated by inner demons
And I found myself in chains
So that ship has finally sailed
Her cruise had left today
People move on and priorities change...
When you wish they'd stay the same.
Aug 30, 2024
Aug 30, 2024 at 3:25 AM UTC
You were a slave
to the pre-established ambitions
of a heightless power.
Interrogated
due to your distinction.
Obliged
into your choices.
Now you sit.
Proud of your seat,
But not knowing
You can stand.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
not as common
is the dream
stuck
in the man.
not all wounds
report back.
I’d look for my father
if I knew where
to begin.
with my mother
it’s like my mother never happened.
I am the man whose missing woman
was bedridden
first.
I depend on my safety.
I worship a sleep that worships.
my brother feels no pain. a characteristic
he blames
on my sister’s
begging
to be interrogated.
not on speaking terms with a former self,
the dream is god.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
you gave me a neglected book
and I mistook it for love.
i tried to find hidden meanings
lurking between the spaces.
i waited for it to pop out from the pages
to hit me in the head
with all it's
senseless rage,
attempting to
command me into belief
with the words you couldn't find on your own.
but alas,
the words never arose,
so,
i massacred
i pillaged
i maimed
and threatened
your book from
front to back
i interrogated under the blinding light
in a cold room
without food or water
and it gave up its
muted fight.
and spoke of page 47
and the weightless paper cup
who
rode the back of
the western wind.
.......
and I recounted my findings to you
and what had lurked on page 47,
but you had confessed to
have never read the book before.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
Number Forty Two: “You're trying to undermine my rehabilitation. Disrupt my social progress!”
Number Six: “Strange talk for a poet.”
-The Prisoner, “A Change of Mind”
Installing a poem to factory specs
Setting iambic feet into concrete
And lifting adverbs to the tops of verbs
Through the use of heavy machinery
Metaphors must be government-inspected
For solidarity with the collective
And images most closely interrogated
For their relevance to the latest cause
The Good, the True, and the Beautiful
As cleared by United Auto Workers Local 2110
So you’d better like it; youknowwhatI’msayin’
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
I am constantly stuck in a place between awake and sleep
And it makes me wonder
How I ended up here
And when I arrived
I am constantly interrogated by the sound and motion of my thoughts
Mainly where I am questioning why the change of heart
Or lack thereof
And why I was sentenced to confinement when proved innocent
These continuous motions have left me seasick
Ever since you took the map and made me walk the plank
And watched along with your pioneers
As their waves crashed into your brain
When you saw it as a cleansing
And welcomed it
Like you assured with my trust
Between your silence and your actions
The only difference is the volumes
Within your actions
They could crack sidewalks
Keeping afloat on my back
Something not so uncommon
I am straying away from your vessel
Slowly but surely
Where I can be found between your constant state of awake and sleep.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 1:15 AM UTC
Oh really? interrogated her cunning eyes, Speak you the truth?
Doubt what you will, mine glowered in return, the ice melting to fragmented liquid between my fingers. But truth and desire are the same thing, no?
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
Just got robbed another time,
And I
Wish it was something as simple,
As someone taking my bike.
But life throws me
for a loop
I'm a f-ck up
And I'd like to just
for once, die
I'm a train-wreck
About to lose it
Near platform five
and Self-Pity Avenue
Someone get on the phone,
And tell them what I've done,
Because only others can
tell my story
Take out all the fun,
and leave me staring at
the sun.
I'm a f-ck up,
I know **** well
What I've done.
I'm not dead and
gone.
Roll the cameras,
3, 2, 1
Fade to white
Pan to the right,
And now I'm in sight
Read the paper today
And
The report says
I'm a wreck
What's new, today?
Interrogated again,
They asked me some
questions and took
some photographs
Long story short,
i was truly f-cked.
Looking almost gaunt,
I'm looking around,
And everyone's looking at me
(Am I alright?)
It seems they
Better call the doc
Because they just captured
The day I almost went dark.
Believe me when I say this,
I've seen better days,
and this isn't it.
Not by a long-shot.
And so, I end up
flipping through
the pages and I
See the reckless
Behaviors and antics
The hospital stays,
Complete and total
havoc
I'm tired of it all,
and it's all
So f-ckin' tragic.
Used to be up at 4 a.m.
Kept myself going
Hyped up on hard drugs
And ramped up in overdrive.
Not even wanting to quit.
Now I'm up at night,
****** one habit to the next
And all I do is cry.
I'm a mess, I'm a wreck
And sometimes, I just want to die
But today,
Just for you
I'd like to, for once
Stay alive, not give up,
and try, honestly
Aug 17, 2023
Aug 17, 2023 at 6:26 AM UTC
They wonder how she got
smarter and harder
in the nick of time,
They fear her wild aura
repelling all the negative vibes everytime.
"Why she is laughing"?
They felt envious of her happiness
Every looser living a low life
Interrogated her vigorous soul
cause they are haunted,
Haunted with her combination of hellfire and holy water soul .
Always pretending like cold hearted,
So unreliable
no one can never count on her
in the matters of secrecy,
and this world can't bear her strong tenacity ...!!!
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC
are some dreams real?
dogs in the alleyways
stopped at the robot by a slavic cop lady
but she lets others pass
dragged to a restaurant
interrogated by a mafia owner demanding money I don't owe
they say I've eaten there with a pregnant lady last week
dunno what they mean
Alan smiles but conspiratorially with them
how can he be a friend?
I sob that I don't get their drift
too late..
I need to a safe room to tell a story
whisper your name in the night
dream you lodge nearby
I jump up to do midnight chores
i pack out glassware from closets and you're there
ostensibly to help
the helpful lodger gesticulated that he's leaving
while I make the right noises of working
so, after upturning the table to work on its insides
you leave it on the floor
upside down
it will stand that way till you return
you get so irked at my queries
I'm half afraid to talk
I get a quick kiss pressed onto me face
I didn't brush my teeth
my tongue feels thick and gritty
you rush off into the night
I'm in an alley with a tape-recorder
hearing a deal go down
I call to the fat son of the owner
they're all slobs
with underwear down their knees
and *** on their shoes
I drive down the highway with half attention
and think how we could have met
yet that thought drifts far away now
as my story waits in line
on a conveyer belt the public never sees
stepping out this time line
to lance ahead single entity
for when the other catches up
there just ain't enough temporal cloth
to be clad in unity cloaks
some dreams are maybe then just dreams
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
I met a girl once, not older than nine or ten. She was wearing a little white dress with scarlet begonias running across the hem of her waist. She told me of her plan, the one she wrote up on the corner of Jefferson Street on a used paper napkin. It was brown, she said, as if having it been brown was of some sort of significance. On it she wrote her fate. Her plan was to find a raccoon, one much too wild to be sane. Once she found this rabid raccoon she would provoke it, make it agitated. Agitated enough to bite her. She wanted to acquire the rabies virus. She wanted it to course through her nervous system, advancing its way to her brain, slowly making her mad. Crazy mad, not angry mad, I asked her to clarify this for me. When I interrogated her more, eager to know why she wanted this she simply said, “I want to be like mommy.” Before I could stop her, she walked away and jumped on a bus, weak and wobbly.
* * *
A week later, I was watching the news when I heard of the death of a girl. The girl with scarlet begonias and a wish for insanity.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 6:44 PM UTC
I didn't know
you would be here,
Tilly's mother said,
when she came in
and saw us sitting
on the sofa together.
She stared at Tilly
more than me.
Benny just popped in
to see me as it's
my half day off work
and we've had a chat,
Tilly said.
Her mother stared at me;
have you offered
Benny a drink?
She said.
No not yet,
Tilly said.
Well get him one then;
I don't suppose
he will want to hang
around all day
waiting for a drink.
Tilly got up,
and went to the kitchen.
I was left alone
with her mother,
who sat down
in her armchair
still looking at me.
Is it your
afternoon off too?
She said.
No I work in two shifts;
I go back to work
about 5pm,
I said.
She looked at the clock
on the mantle-shelf
which showed 3.25pm.
She nodded her head,
and looked around the room
as if looking for signs
we may have been
up to something(trusting soul).
It is not any young man
I would have here with Tilly,
you know,
I know your mother
has brought you up
to honour and respect girls,
so I am trusting in your case,
she said,
looking back
at me again.
I was thinking about Tilly
and me up in her room
about half hour previously
lying next to each other
after having had ***
a couple of times.
That is nice to know,
I said,
that you trust me.
She stared stiffly;
her eyes narrowing.
It is important that girls
appreciate their virginity,
she said.
I listened out for Tilly;
that she'd come back soon,
and wouldn't put
her foot in it
as she nearly did
the other time
I came around,
and her mother
interrogated me.
What are your prospects
where you work?
She asked.
Prospects?
I said.
What are the future developments
at your place of employment?
She said.
Upward and *****
I said.
She stared at me.
I *****
and pull down marquees,
I said smiling.
She did not smile back:
and the future?
What are your prospects?
I have no idea,
I said.
She sat forward,
and looked towards
the kitchen:
where has that girl gone?
Visiting India
to buy it?
She said.
I smiled;
she didn't.
After a few minutes,
Tilly entered
with a tray of cups
and saucers for three,
and set it down
on a small coffee table
in the center of the room,
and stood up smiling.
Done it,
she said.
You took your time,
her mother said,
where you been, India?
Tilly stopped smiling,
and sat next to me.
What have you two
been doing this afternoon?
her mother asked.
Talking about our school days,
Tilly said.
Is that all?
Her mother said.
Well we did talk
about other things too,
she said.
I mean other
than talking,
her mother said.
Benny kissed me once,
Tilly lied.
Her mother eyed me:
is that all?
Well maybe twice,
I said.
Her mother selected
a cup and saucer
and sipped from the cup,
and stared at Tilly
and not me.
Virginity is highly prized
in our family,
her mother said,
not until marriage
is it to be relinquished,
her mother said.
I nodded,
and Tilly
went red.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 2:32 AM UTC
Sherri can you hear me?
I'm sitting in my bathroom,
I've got a bunch of pills
And I'm ready to meet my doom.
Sherri can you hear me?
I'm almost ready to die.
I called you for one reason,
I wanted to say goodbye.
Sherri can you hear me?
Please don't call nine-one-one
Nothing can help anymore.
It's all done; I'm done.
Sherri can you hear me?
One, two, three, four.
Counting pills, ready for death
Oh no, they're at the door.
Sherri I gotta go,
The ambulance is here.
My wrists are sliced real bad
And my death is getting near.
Sherri I'm so scared.
Lights and sirens are on high.
They're sticking stickers on my body,
My death will soon be nigh.
Grace can you hear me?
My heart's beating too fast.
I'm seizing, once, twice, three times,
This day will soon be my last.
Grace, stop, stop!
I'm pulling out my needle
Barely aware of what's happening
My body's turning feeble.
Grace, why did you do it?
I'm now being interrogated.
Summit Ridge or Peachford?
To the hospital I am fated.
Mom can you hear me?
It's finally visitor's day.
I'm so anxious, I love you lots
Please mom, will you stay?
Grace did you hear me?
You're going no matter what.
Skyland Trail's the next step,
No ifs, ands, or buts.
Mom can you hear me?
I miss you too much.
Please. come pick me up,
I really miss your touch.
Friends can you hear me?
You're help was invaluable.
A Thank You goes to everyone
My recovery is beyond admirable.
Jun 26, 2019
Jun 26, 2019 at 8:35 AM UTC
listening to you speak tonight,
made me ill,
you sounded so very different,
your tone, i could feel over the towers your love for me was never there.
i may want to die tonight but, i won’t why?
because then you’ve won. and i’m stronger than that.
i stood up to you tonight, and then shut you off.
turned off the flashlight that you ever so silently interrogated me with,
i’ll find a softer light, one that shines love through it’s glass.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
A girl lost her father to cancer
at eighteen.
Tell me what that means,
what that was good for.
Because she lost herself too that day and
she's not back yet.
She pleaded; dear sickness,
let him see me grow up first.
They got two weeks.
It's been one year,
seven months,
thirteen days,
eight hours.
So tell me who you are to say
she's not still broken.
When her mother was abused
and her boyfriend had a child
with someone new.
Tell me how she
should have seen it coming.
When she was interrogated about her
sexuality, and
in the papers they spoke of hellfire as
a cure for natural desire.
When her female friend
made fun of her weight
and she hit herself for believing it.
When her male friends
violated her at parties
even though she said
no.
Tell me how she
should have spoken up.
Tell me how she
should have been sober.
Limbs itching, nails scratching
until imagined flaws become real scars.
When she eventually confused
closeness,
***
with love - her comfort in being
alone
dragged good people down with her.
Tell me how she was to blaim.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 3:58 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Interrogated, tortured,
Then killed
Just the way
The Saudi Prince had willed
An oppositional voice
Finally stilled
On Turkish soil
His blood was spilled
The Turks have
A surveillance tape
That would leave
Your mouth agape
The Saudi reporter
Could not escape
A sicker equivalent
Of date ****
Prince Muhammad bin Salman
Hatched the plot
So ask yourself
What have we got
How can anyone
Befriend that snot?
While the bonesaw they used
Is still hot
Nine-Eleven involved
Nineteen of them
They’re the **** of the earth
Or the phlegm
We spit out our mouths
When we can
They’re worst than
The Ku Klux ****
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 3:52 AM UTC
I'm not letting you in,
Not a chance,
Out of luck
I've locked up the doors,
The windows are barred,
I'm sorry, but you're a little bit stuck.
Keep banging all you want,
I can't hear you at all,
I'm too busy living my life,
You won't be the one to make me fall.
Call the cops, that's fine,
But we'll see who gets arrested,
And who ends up in a darkened room,
Interrogated and continuously tested.
I'll be sat with the jury,
Smiling as you try to plead not guilty,
You cry and you beg like an idiot,
But we need people in the world less filthy.
I walk away,
You walk the line,
I'm sat at a bar,
You're behind prison bars,
I'm secure at home
While you're secured in handcuffs.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 3:07 AM UTC
my ankle was dried out from
the blazing summer sun
from the time at the beach with you.
it was the best day
but it turned so dark
so ******* quick
we were sat in my car
the windows down, breeze
flowing through the air
and i handed you a dollar
to pay for my coffee
but you declined my offer.
so i put it in your shirt pocket
and you made a joke about strippers
and i made a joke about strippers
except
you didn’t find my joke funny
you never did
your face turned as hot and red
as the sunburn on my ankle
that now felt itchy
you questioned me
interrogated me
for something i did before i knew you
and you left me by myself
threw the dollar at me
and walked away as my tears start to fall
they don’t affect you though
they never really did
so i run out of the car
but you’re already buckled into yours
and slowly pulling away
telling me out the window
“don’t talk to me right now. you disgust me”
i have never felt so hollow in my life
like i could fall over and
shatter into a million pieces
i walk inside my house.
“how was your day sweetie?”
i respond how i always do
“it was amazing. i’ll tell you later.”
my ankle is itchy
i sit on my bed
and i scratch
and scratch
and scratch.
it hurts more than it itches now
but i continue to scratch.
my nail finds a permanent groove
it continues to scratch.
it hurts now. it’s bleeding.
but i am telling myself
that i deserve this for what i’ve done.
i am disgusting. how could i have done that. i’m a horrible girlfriend.
i look down and see red
it’s all over my fingers
underneath my nails.
i feel
accomplished.
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 1:33 AM UTC