deepundergroundpoetry.com
Down Not Across
I check in to the asylum
about this time every year
It's a comfort to know
that when I leave it will all be over
everything will return to normal
my sanity restored.
The last present
will be unwrapped
the trees and their falling needles
consigned to the sleet
on the sidewalk.
Safe inside,
my room service arrives
wearing crisp white coats and a starched smile
although there's always
the small, gray, plastic beaker
I never ordered
its chemical adjustments staring coldly from the tray,
tinsel free,
three times a day.
There are no carol singers
only thinly muffled screams from the next wing
as those less fortunate than I
are force fed Christmas dinner
beaten into submission with each fearful mouthful
chewing unseasonal visions.
The doctors are reassuring
they tell me I did the right thing
dialing 911 to book my place.
I look down
at the bandages on both wrists
still warm in the purest virgin white
and all the while I'm hoping secretly
that next year I'll remember
when I slash with the knife
It's down, not across...
fucking down,
not across.
But somehow I always forget
my distraction inspired
by one eye on Christmas alone
and sadness slashing deeper
than the furies
that cut through my soul.
Published 19th Dec 2009
| Edited 30th Jul 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Anonymous
19th Dec 2009 6:54pm
poem by you. Dark, audacious and just brilliant. The image of pine needles in the sleet on the sidewalk, the iteration of 'down not across' near the end, the other patients being force fed their Christmas dinners, it colludes to form one hell of a poetic crescendo. Better than 'Musings,' I reckon, as a portrait of the disturbed and weary mind.
20th Dec 2009 00:21am
Fuck thats deep ! I like the unseasonal three times a day bit , some good imagery going on too .Yeah I like it .
20th Dec 2009 8:27am
...like they say, the first cut is the deepest. Appreciate your feedback, Paul.
20th Dec 2009 11:47am
.. and you said you would never read another Xmas poem again, Jack. Well, if it's your favourite from my 150 odd I suppose it must be OK then. Thank you, sir.
Anonymous
20th Dec 2009 1:45pm
too good, i love it A.It moves me terribly.The iteration is divine, n pls dont tell me its like dolly parton:-)There is genuine pain , and honesty in yoyr words here.
20th Dec 2009 1:55pm
I'm grateful to a friend who worked in such a place for the information that inspired this poem. I found it a majestic irony that most wrist slashers do it the wrong way. I had second thoughts about posting but felt it was too good not to. So any damaged readers out there please, please - don't try this for yourself.
Thanks, Priya.
Thanks, Priya.
Anonymous
20th Dec 2009 1:58pm
Can I tell you that Im a little jealous how u can so effortlessly churn out lovely lines thus?
20th Dec 2009 2:05pm
Well, aren't you the bombshell dropper, but I would have said there's probably not a jealous cell in your body, Priya. I assure you there's quite a lot of effort involved (and you know the pain required all too well) I'm just quite good at feeling the world - that's my only 'talent' (and my own downfall on occasion as it can be hard to switch it off).
