skin to skin

I stuck two fingers inside of myself to search for the biggest of crimson reliefs

and I found it.


The question to all my answers is still
somewhere sitting
in the tinted fog,
but I feel, not lucky,
just responsible for my poor
delusional sense of self.

The traumatic bulge
of my skin to skin start
has kept me off kilter and wandering.

I sucked my thumb like a child,
then the nail and tooth
making a repeated echo
in my cave of hollow sound,
a nostalgic distraction
that has coated my life.
I sat on my knees looking up,
an obedient life
I am living

for a tongue in my mouth.

I know when my paleness appeals,
so translucent, you see the blue swim beneath it.
It makes you want to smear your spit across it,
while you watch my mouth water into yours,

like a faucet

while you've plucked my veins
below.

Reviews

[M. Shepherd]

This gets grotesquely sexy - "smear your spit across it" and mouths watering into one another - I feel from it a palpable disdain and disgust for these acts and almost a disdain for anyone who'd be attracted to you - and I adore that last line, as though we were instruments playing one another to pleasure or pain or some combination.

There's a lot of frustration in this - that introspection and finding only fog, simultaneously feeling as though youre still a child and longing for childhood once again, or rather, simpler times. Back when things weren't so fucked up.

[Woody]

amazing introspection. your choice of words is simply stunning. again, great imagery here.

[W.k.kortas]

I am not, I admit, generally a big fan of introspective poetry, possibly because I simply cannot write it, but also because it tends to tend toward the somewhat weepy and woe-is-me. This, however, is a different animal. There is a tangible sensuousness in the piece, but controlled and not for the purpose of titillation, and the feel for the language you exhibit never even allows a hint of the piece's underlying emotion overwhelming the writing. This is first-rank, top-of-the-list writing.

[. serah .]

-- the intensity of sadness expressed in this piece is so potent that it's impossible not to experience the poet's journey... "cave of hollow sound" is a particularly unforgettable phrase and image... as also "a nostalgic distraction/that has coated my life"... -- i wonder incessantly about what we little girl hearts mourn for when we grow up... -- what is it that dissolves into the ether of adulthood and disappears forever...? -- thank you for articulating that sentiment in infinitely poetic terms...