As you well know, my tether to planet earth is rather tenuous

Those vines couldn't have crept more

subtly into these ventricles.

Subtle as a secret

subtle as snipped wingtips and weak drinks.

Their spider weight didn't trip the alarms,

I had no chance to wield the weed whacker

before they'd breached the reaches

of my branching veins.

You sneaky heart attack, you.

If only I could pinch your cheek now,

wag my finger, nah ah ah ha ha ha...

you got me, you cheeky m**********r.

Checkmate.

I texted you once the damage was done,

roughly 18 hours had passed,

we had just parted for the first time,

you headed back home 6 hours away.

A fluke, us meeting like that.

Will you marry me? I half joked,

and we laughed,

neither of us certain of either half.

Was it reality where we met?

Its name is obsession,

that clinical voice would say later,

the omnipotent voice of evolutionary biology,

and I would scoff and brush off

those words like spiders,

ignoring my arachnaphobia,

ignoring even, the textbook red hourglass

on those black lacquered bellies.

And even later I would dream of drawers

teeming with spiders,

the rest of my life waiting beneath.

I recall my little brother wailing midair, once

as my enraged father flung him off a boat

like a shotput.

My brothers' life jacket would represent

my fathers' empty threats,

but what does a 6 year old know of emptiness.

I am all the stillness and quiet of my then

10 year old self learning detachment

as the best way to remain whole.

Yet for some reason now I want to grip

your face and shake you,

No, I WANT you to break me.

I had to try and convince you

no no no, I LIKE flaking paint

and pants frayed at the ankles,

I think Louis Vuitton is a waste of money

and makeup is the place where people hide their beauty.

But I didn't say any of that and you didn't listen.

You nodded slowly when I once said

hate is often indistinguishable from love

so it isn't exactly a shrug,

the shape my shoulders have taken

now that you hate me,

it's just that

we agreed love isn't the alternative.

now I am faced with

how to write the end of the story

when the delusion isn't over.

Author's Note

Working on coherence here

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Seems so full of past, of memories, of feeling inept, victorious, both winner and loser. You strike out but hold back, you sing, then grow silent. This is more than a poem, it's a character reference written for self by self. Perhaps.

I don't know why this touched me, wish i did..

I had to try and convince you
no no no, I LIKE flaking paint
and pants frayed at the ankles,
I think shoe polish is a waste of money
and makeup is the place where people hide their beauty.

Contentment in spite of yourseff? Ceding to eventuality? Not caring a damn? CAring too much but.. ?

Great explosive, raw writing. will read again and try not to gasp so much but, think much more.

[M. Shepherd]

Thank you Emma for your kind words - goodness gracious it's been a long time since I've come here! Too long.
Caring too much, is the answer - desperately so - and just loving entropy, loving the true state of things for what they are, not hiding scars or wrinkles or blemishes - that passage blurs the lines between covering up ones true self and the necessity of maintenance - sometimes I love broken things a little too much, maybe by the virtue of them being broken, because I feel broken, and that resonates.

[emmajoy]

Perfection covers up the beauty of being human!

(Read that not so long ago, kept it by. for the right moment. Is now my mantra... please share. (You)

[CD Campbell]

I think you are very talented. As far as coherence; I've read better, I've read worse. I'll give you a +12 out of a -20 to a +20 range. How's that? But honestly as a reviewer I don't care. I liked how everything "was" said. Sure, there are a few things I would change if it was mine. There though, in the meat of the work, there is this madness that you're tapping into that's delicious. Spiders, bitter memories, vines and ventricles. Didn't I mention the title stands out and pulls you in? Anyway, I like a lot of what you have written so far. Good work. CD

[. serah .]

-- i just read this symphony again and i'm able to see the emotion(s) expressed in it much more clearly than before... and do you know which image stood out for me right now...? -- it was the one in "makeup is the place where people hide their beauty"... and makeup doesn't necessarily mean makeup but it could also mean behaviour/actions/words which we (as in us human beings) might deploy to hide our beauty... -- just the suggestion that the best parts of us might be too hard for us to handle is so poignant...

[Beccy]

I don't think the delusion is ever over; and if truth be told, we never really wish it to be so.

For me, the heart of this quite wonderful poem was the third stanza. 'Its name is obsession,' indeed it is.


Beccy.

[terry smith]

ah...delusions will get you every time...great writing....and if he makes you happy you can build a tolerance to poison...

[M. Shepherd]

I love that, tolerance to poison. And it's true. Thank you for the insights and thoughts terry. :)

[terry smith]

sure thing :)

[h d e rushin]

your beginnings are so damn good. I'm jealous as hell, but love your style so much...

dana

[M. Shepherd]

Buh buh buh thank you! Coming from a poetic genius like yourself Dana that is huge. I am all wriggly and googly eyed over here.

[W.k.kortas]

I can see where you think it may be somewhat fragmented/disjointed, in that the narrative is not tethered to any particular timeline, but I think there is a considerable internal consistency throughout the piece, so I would not dwell on that. The use of dialogue inside the piece is very well done, and in my view is a big part of holding the piece together, and aids dramatically in providing flesh and blood to the imagery. Prior reviewers have praised this for good reason.

[M. Shepherd]

Thank you wk - your opinion means a lot to me.

[JetMardium]

Wow, i loved it. Amazing versing, unparalleled visuals. congrats on what is surely a fine piece of art

[M. Shepherd]

Thank you jetmardium :)

[JetMardium]

anytime, would very much appreciate it if you could give some of my work a review

[Chris]

You've a rare voice... and use it well.

[M. Shepherd]

Thank you Chris :)

[Chris]

It isn't hell when your heart IS touched... just afters when you wonder WTF happened... chuckling here

[M. Shepherd]

Aint that the truth, sir.. touched is an understatement though in this particular case and heart is also an understatement but both of these statements (considering the poem detailed a heart getting infiltrated) just go to show how uncertain I am about it all, souls n' that, love as opposed to some kind of disorder. I am not a doctor nor am I god, it's hard to say anything with conviction these days.

[Chris]

It's harder still to say anything WITHOUT conviction - we get hung whether or not we speak...

[M. Shepherd]

Whether or not we're certain of what we have spoken, tis true.