I don’t cry tears
I bleed them
Cough them out of lungs
Spew them from sockets
where eyes once rested
Let them rain over flesh
Poisoning
Crawling
back into the depths of shallow veins
They choke the liver
Squeeze screaming kidneys
Writhing
They drench bones
in their joined monstrosities
I squirm, imprisoned in skin
Howling through open pores
And the metallic tasting tears
lurk behind and between teeth
Venture up the screeching jaw
Stretch the muscles so they break
So they cry too
They shake a tormented brain
Racking its skull
and it thunders so heavily against its casket
Splitting ear drums
so they curl
withdrawing into insanity
And I’m digging
Clawing into a chest cavity
to pull its beating – no, its pounding – content from within
to stop the tears from spreading
Pulling open the gaping hole, I stare
into the pit of madness
The intestines have found a new place to exist
in the acidity of the stomach
The tears put them there too
and I want to tear them from that place as well
It doesn’t belong
and it feels about as good
as the organ laying in my hand
July 24, 2012 at 12:41 am
Oooh, intense! You have that relentless beat in there. The last line just struck me as a bit at odds with the rest of the poem, though.
July 24, 2012 at 10:34 am
Thank you
If you mean the “and it feels about as good as the organ laying in my hand”, I was trying to convey that it doesn’t feel good at all. Like she’s holding her heart in her hand…so obviously she’s basically killed herself to stop the pain…and now she’s looking inside her body and notes that her organs are in the wrong place…but her heart is too now, seeing as hearts are supposed to be in your chest, not in your hand. So she’s realizing that death “feels about as good”, in other words, feels about as bad, as pain. Nothing is in its right place either way.