If You Should Find Me

If you should find me with my head in the oven,
and my other head hanging from the broom closet,
and my torso flattened under tire,
and my hands in a bowl of oranges,
and my neck breaking for a man I barely know,

if you should find me like this,
please let me know what waits on the other side.

Please give my words a violent bath
in ammonia and make my skin
as fresh as a mothers’ skin should be.
Please wrap me up in plastic and place
me under heating lamps

and interrogate me before I leave.

I want my guts to spew outside of myself and
my skeleton to dry out in fresh air.

The air has become so stale in here,
I am as dry as an old loaf of bread.
I am collecting spores of green mold and nobody
knows about it

and all of the living organisms go around and around
their clocks;
the women with their perky breasts and the
men with their swollen cocks
and all of their concern with pro-creation,
while I sit here and rot in
the truth of who I am.

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18 thoughts on “If You Should Find Me

    1. they seem to flow to the dark side most often….im still working on lighter ones. I’m not sure why my mind doesn’t like to be creatively light very often.

    1. Thanks Polly!! I am SO glad you commented because it reminded me that I haven’t been over to your page in a bit. I’m excited to see new posts from you!

  1. This is very deep and I feel the emotions….. “and all of their concern with pro-creation,
    while I sit here and rot in the truth of who I am.” <—— I truthfully get this one!!!

  2. This is good, quite nihilistic with a sense of absolute defeat to the inevitability of death and decay; an awesome poem! I can relate to your sentiments of generally churning out dark, seething poetry as opposed to light, whimsical pieces – I seem to be pretty much incapable of writing the latter myself, haha.

  3. You have a unique talent. Ah, if only I could give voice to the darkness that lurks within, eating my body from the inside out, and poisoning my soul…..

    Keep up the excellent work. I find this very intriguing.

  4. Hm. I wonder if:

    the truth of who I am

    should be:

    the “truth” of who I am.

    I want to believe the subject of the poem is merely suffering from misperception or misunderstanding of herself. I want to believe I can help. I don’t know that I can, though.

    Much sympathy to her. This is a familiar subject. Thank you.

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