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    MacGreg
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Poems and Short Quips - 7. The Scratch in the Surface

Vicious words

Jarring my mind

Piercing my gullet

Wrapping a choke-hold of repression around me

Like a scratchy wool scarf yanked around my neck

Like a thick blanket wrenched around my head

 

You stand there with your hands on your hips, your head cocked to one side,

That familiar glint of cruelty in your intimidating blue eyes.

You don’t know the influence you have over me.

Or maybe you fucking do...

 

I attempt to focus my attention elsewhere

On the potted jade plant,

On the tattered Turkish rug,

On that long scratch in the surface of the hardwood floor that we've never sanded out.

 

Anything to keep from having to focus on you.

 

A familiar heat rises up in me, spreading through my body like scalding liquid

Burning my limbs, my neck, my cheeks, my eyelashes.

As always, this is the time when thoughts cease to circulate,

When I’m numb and angry

And unable to vocalize a single thing.

 

I'm a zombie.

I'm a mannequin.

 

Listening to your vicious words

Which jar my mind

Pierce my gullet

Wrap cruelly around my neck like a scratchy wool scarf,

Choking me.

 

I swallow it all down,

I ingest the bitter pills you spew,

Because I'm mired in this delusional bullshit

Just the same as you are.

 

And that scratch in the surface will never be eradicated, my love.

No matter how hard we scrub at it.

Not a happy poem, but it was therapeutic for me at the time I wrote it. Poetry's a great outlet.
Copyright © 2017 MacGreg; All Rights Reserved.
  • Like 13
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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  • Site Administrator

I can really relate to the inability to vocalize and turning into a zombie and mannequin. People tend to think of only two responses to stress or danger: fight or flight. But there's a third reaction... freeze. Which is what happens to me during times of confrontation. I hope things are better for you since you wrote this. :hug::kiss:

  • Like 2

This stuck so close to home, Mac. I felt every word... that feeling... avoidance, helplessness, sorrow, just not knowing what to do because nothing seems to work... you've exhausted yourself, and you can't breathe, but you don't want to give up... and you don't even know why anymore... you left me awash in memories that have faded, but can still send me reeling... outstanding poem, buddy... G

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