Thread: Human Squeezer

Not necessarily meant to be understood completely, but I wanted to share it anyway.

Code:

                                    Human Squeezer

Squeezing my balloon skull                                                               for stifled air currents,
to get it numb and ready.                                                               It’s never easy
 to cut out pieces I remember,                                                     to depressurize those pockets,
      pockets of dead people,                                                  of bony, fluid-filled woman-eaters.
 This is where my eyes would go                                            if they were open
         to therapeutic juicing, and                                          there’d be something like breathing.
There’d be me, making scars like veins                            with railroad trains. Say where it hurts.
Grab me by lips my daddy kissed,                                 and say why it never stopped.
 And rip them apart like legs                                   and the little girl that never prayed;
  he touched me everywhere and I                          did nothing. Nothing all along. 
         Laid my brain like string for                      the kite he was constructing.
                                    His finger                         was crooked. 
       Compress my legs that were                     open like scissors
                   to carve out tattoos                             of his poetry.  
      He said I was made to be art,                        made to be torn apart.    
         Make me blue, stand on my chest—        does it hurt just like this?
           My head is rubber with holes               for telephone poles
                    that breathe,                          that let me hear everything in
  half-words and severed verse,               impaling chants.       
       Don’t touch me. Don’t look.           This is my practice.
           This is how I live—                on the ticking cusp of
                         exploding,               breathing.
                              Just let me         let go.

WOW! Very impressive. Tiffanys don't usually do 3 for 1 jewellery offers, but this dazzles - sun sparking off diamonds. One question, is the ragged edged untidiness of it deliberate. As I can't play with the graphical element by trying different layouts, I can't tell.

There is a far better title within you - go look for it.

Thanks. This site doesn't allow me to format it exactly right, so it doesn't look quite the way it should, but it's close enough that it gives you the idea. As far as the title is concerned, it was actually originally titled "Therapy," and I changed it for a variety of reason; however, I'll probably be changing it again. Thanks so much.