& in this way i am so subdued—
touch me like the wind & i am
sweet grass, the kind i’d bend &
pluck apart as a child. / my thumbprints
are now left only with the traces
of my resentment. / it is on everything
i touch; watch as it spreads
to my skull, / watch as i spread into
mass. / i know the cure, & still—
call me a conspiracist. / look,
see my teeth—the bones are broken &
fissured & so sick. / & i am still
so sick. / call me the sinner,
call me Judas, / say i’ll forget
my tongue again, & i will;
the color of the grass, the skin
between my fingers, the way
i used to love. / say it so
i don’t have to, say it so i can
fall into myself again, so i can
forget my name & face & mother
& how sick i am. & it is so much easier—
/ tell me that i can be the sinner again. /
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Hi Avian! I found your poem, sloth, very thought provoking and deeply felt it. Thanks for sharing it with us! Here are some of the parts that stood out to me:
This is very powerful imagery. I can almost feel the echo of the finger grasping my arm. The resentment lingering long after the argument.
This is powerful also. I have felt this before. Just out with it because we both know what it is you want to say, so say and we can be done with it finally. Confirm the things we both know to be true. That kind of energy.
Wanting to forget it all. To become the nothing we feel. To be forgotten even by ourselves. Very poignant.
First of all, I really love the use of punctuation in this poem. It really separates the lines and makes the reader pause and think about what they have read, but it also reminds me of texting. Since the title is 'sloth' and you said in a post that you had been feeling 'sluggish' it gives me the idea of the narrator lazing around, not bothering to do anything, scrolling on their phone and having these deep thoughts in fleeting moments.
We start here in a nostalgic moment that highlights the fragile vulnerability of childhood innocence. What was a sweet childhood moment is now tinged with resentment:
You move expertly through these feelings and ideas! Again, it reminded me of a phone, how you might use your thumbprint to unlock and then scroll; something so personal and unique used to make you like everybody else. You move on to how this feeling has spread to everything, like an infection:
We all know the cure; we just need to get up and DO. But it's not that easy, however much we tell ourselves
I think this is my favourite line. It flows so well.
The ending of the poem shows the core psychological paradox you've set up: the narrator begs to be labelled a 'sinner' and as 'Judas.' This condemnation offers relief, because if others name them the villain, the narrator no longer has to face their own identity, face, mother, or illness. Just surrendering to the role of the sinner is easier than getting up and trying to heal. It paints a painful picture of depression, and I hope you are doing okay <3. A beautiful poem.
A very nostalgic poem written by the writer.
The opening lines establish a contrast between a gentle past and a hardened present, the speaker remembers being "subdued" and responsive like "sweet grass," a nostalgic nod to childhood innocence. That softness is gone. The resentment is not just emotional, it feels physical.
The imagery of broken, fissured, and "sick" teeth highlights a decay that goes deep into the bone. The speaker is trapped in a cycle of chronic emotional or physical illness.
The most complex part of the poem is the craving to be labelled "the sinner" or "Judas." Being cast as the villain is actually a relief for the speaker. If other people define them as bad, the speaker no longer has to carry the exhausting weight of trying to be good or trying to heal.
Honestly, trying to process the sheer scale of the speaker's internal decay and self-loathing is so endearing, leaving the readers feeling just as breathless and fractured as the narrator.
(My perspective might not be the same as the writer's real message conveyed through this poem.)
Keep it up.
Waiting for more.
Thank you.
In my opinion, this poem seems to be about becoming slothful due to despair, unless I'm mistaken. The feeling of not wanting to do anything anymore because you just want to forget all the painful things in life can be quite overwhelming. I think a lot of people can relate to the speaker's wish in this poem, which seems to be to forget everything. I also noticed how you use the word "sinner" and guessed that you chose this word because sloth can be seen as a moral failing by many people. Overall, this was a good poem!