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deepundergroundpoetry.com

ordinary?

The below is far from it. This has been some of my personally most terrifying and yet liberating pieces that I have ever bled onto a page. The below should not be read if you can’t handle your emotions. Turn back before the line while you are able to heed the warning.






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Fetal position on the floor, I count the many replications in the pocked pattern, riding the surge, holding on, animal-tough, yet close to beaten.

Pain clamps its toothy maw down, my body spasms and crumbles under this alarming agony. Total collapse of muscle and bone.

The more I relaxed the deeper it bit my body now wracked in spasms pain making it hard to breath, throat closing as I hacked up the phlegm of the pasts debris.

One tried to give in to comfort’s cotton like grip.
Eagerly swallowing capsules given by doctors, but thus began the hours of torment, sickly protests, squeals blending with rough, drunken actions, beatings, bleeding, tearing and shrieking.

My screams echo from within, like the sound of stray cats in heat, hard to believe these are my own wracking sobs, psyche scorched, finally. 

Trembling and ashen I see myself move as a ghostlike figure among those who should have helped. Meeting eyes that just do not see, like black cavities.

He took it all leaving me feeling I’ve nothing left to give, and I can’t endure so I run, tracing a coward’s map out of somewhere I called home.  Can I comprehend the meaning anymore? 

So many times did his “purifying orgasm” begin it’s invading, blazing like daylight, into the private, aching core of my soul as it clove me in two.

Many years pass and even my assailants eventual death has not erased his name from the recesses of my mind, carrying his actions as baggage in suitcases, battered. busted, worn thin with the stress of carrying the burden of his crusade of selfishness.

On and on I travel from one breakdown to the next as I lumber forward, simultaneously both weak and strong, driven to move until the end, doing something I don’t understand, but think I love, we call it living.
Written by Talk_Derby_to_Me
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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