Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for violence.
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140,094 Literary Works • 672,998 Reviews
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shedding the old skin for the new ritual,
Spoiler
i am airing out my blood and flesh, ice pricks
growing on the fat and moss on the
muscle.
ever bitter never younger, i have broken my
ribs for this, only the soft material
remains. sticking to the stone as i bare
myself to the heavens.
"here i am," i say "in all my fool's
glory." and i let my heart drop, pattering
on the floor, frantic. it is screaming, witnessing
the world for once as it is.
lungs come crashing out, i watch in abject
horror as it all unwinds, the soft deflation of the
tissue while the ice breaks the quiet
peace into brittle hatred.
brain then slides out and i am dumbfounded
as it seeps into a pile of membrane and neuron,
fluids still shimmering off its meaty
outer.
you look down at me and
i am letting it all out before you,
you say-
"welcome to the new world.
although-- you have become something
unrecognizable. even to me."
so i cry.
as the tears pool in front of me
i finally see myself- or the was-me.
it is horrifying and non-human and
i look back up for you.
but you have already lost
your me so you have nothing at all
worth remembering.
This poem is so raw, visceral, and unsettling but in the 'best' way, in that it really had me hooked, pulled me into the emotions behind it. The gruesome yet beautifully poetic imagery of 'old skin' 'blood and flesh' 'i have broken my ribs' and screaming, brains sliding out ; so dark and intense but mesmerisingly crafted.
I understood this to be a self-transformation, shedding your old self and becoming unrecognizable to those who knew you (or the speaker, i should say). The 'was-me' was a brilliant addition; the speaker did not recognise it as themselves as they used to.
This is a hauntingly beautiful yet utterly grotesque poem about identity, change, and loss- loss of sense of self, i presume. It really made an impact on me <3
A palpable self-hatred and self-flagellation, that is somewhat admirable in its uncompromising tone. Whilst there are moments where it harks back to a juvenile sense of armageddon, the end times over something more temporarily upsetting, these don't impose. I get the sense that you wrote this from a very dark place. These are thoughts you've fought, but failed, to hide. Tap into those thoughts. Don't hide them anymore. They make for good poetry.