The Rack

The First Timne, when I was young, a lover left me, I sank into deep withdrawal. I thought of that today, reflecting on how long it took to manage my intake, among other things.

 

Cold plaster walls entomb me.

A comatose of snow descends outside

My bones. . . . .riddled with antholes

          .Hollow   Pimples.

                     On calcium

                             white

                             stalks

          That swarm with tickling life.

Cold draft through anthill holes

         through     bones

Whistling right down to the marrow.

Your last pinprick whisper goodbye

   through the receiver holes

   of the old rotary dialtone Phone

     in my heart.........................................receding

     the last grains of morphine.................. receding (a scattering of sand through my heart).

The venom sprawled right into my sheets,

     a nightmare prison of suffocating white

     balloons around my head, tucked under my elbows, and

           finally thrown off the Bed

     to reveal the bare, crippling meat of this paradox:

(kicking legs! screaming knees! squalling stomach! Venom sweat! Lying fly-tongue! Dry meat heart!

Tribal temples...pounding! Broken mirrors of guilt...cutting! different angles across my heart

Frozen, empty lungs....rattling!:

           The chamber where I vent my soul in menthol that doesn't help.

Your gone your gone your gone your gone. And all my loves are gone. And all my dearest friends are

                            gone.

              And half my family's gone.

                                And....and....and)

I hum my prisms into the pillow.

A ganglia of nerves throughout my skin....convulsing in electric jellyfish spasm

I hiccup my legs, shift the folded pockets of air

and huddle       beneath my ratty blanket.

I feel your glacier of finality

Melting through the topology of my brain

Scouring me out of all the

Small channels of brain tissue

   leaving behind a little nub of hollow bone

              the pocket of a skull.

              the huddle of bones

                     on a matress

   where we used to beat our dreams in 2.

Author's Note

I wrote this earlier today, reflecting on my first break up ever. It was devestating, I let myself slip, I let myself fall into withdrawals, became depressed. It took so long to learn how to handle all those things.....and even now

Reviews

[JacqMarie]

i like the last line a lot. "hum my prisms" is familiar. so lost..

[spiritwind]

Raw pain. This poem is overwhelmed with raw pain. Isn't it wicked the wages of love? If only you would have loved yourself more and the other person less or even not at all, you could have missed out on such agony. But then if that were so, you would not have the heart of compassion to tap into and live your life with sensitivity and open arms for another love to come along and demolish your life or make the world your own earthly kingdom. Oh, I especially fell for this "Tribal temples...pounding"

[KAOlmsted]

Jesus...I don't even remember the name of the first boyfriend who ever broke up with me, but I'm sure it was devastating...Christ...imagine hanging onto those feelings for that long (of course, you're a whole lot younger than I am, so your memory isn't quite as long as mine) ;-) This is so full of anguish, James, and truth...I love your work for that. Really well done.

[Baby Ricochet]

THis is f**k brilliant. I'm inspired to write something now. Thanks!

[Becca Bishop]

Very nice. The sharp, cutting lines and flow, coupled with your varying sentence lengths, really help the anguish and despair shine through.

Wow, that sounded way too sophisticated for one such as I :P

I know this stemmed from a bad experience, but I rather enjoyed it :D You're very, very good at your descriptions. I've come to realize that most people (excluding me) are. But you just happen to be even better than that. Did that make sense? Gah. Probably not. I should just give up with this review stuff and start blowing up my pool toys again. They're probably the only friends I'm going to have from now on if I keep talking.

(By the way, did I mention that I liked it?)

[James William Dyer]

Thnx. I'll have to check out some of your work.

[G!o]

You totally had me in this by the second line. You've crafted the words perfectly and embossed it with the voice of pain and desperation...really raw and beautifully written...thumbs up

[Lily Mae]

I could feel the pain and emotion throughout.. That last line was awesome..xo

[James William Dyer]

thanx

[Lily Mae]

Your welcome.. It's hard to seal a write at the end that is so great throughout.. so that's what I liked about the end... it just did the emotion and pain justice..xo and anytime..x

[barton smock]

'I hum my prisms into the pillow'. for all the playful asides, this was direct and lonely. of course, playful is a haunted thing when executed with ghost(ly) mates.

[eglantine]

"A comatose of snow descends outside / My bones. . . . .riddled with antholes" great image! I'd just take out the ellipses. Ellipses usually indicate a smoother break/pause but this poem needs more of a jabbing/shocking break. Try the double dash?

Nice ending... I'd spell out 'two' instead of just '2'.

thanks for sharing!

[James William Dyer]

Thx. The 2 allows reader to interpret it as pound into the bed as well as pound in two due to the sound and use of the number. The elipses isn't really intended entirely as a sound guidance device, it also is meant to indicate the little riddled antholes. Ill think about it

[eglantine]

ya, I picked up on the antholes bit, but, guess i'm just not a fan of it.

[James William Dyer]

Sure thing, some are for it, some against. I'm considering altering the elipses to a row of colons (why do they have to call it colons? sounds like a literary bowel problem). Thank you for the input.

[MissEpic2902]

This is amazing, Raw emotion. I loved it. And I can relate to it Bravo