poetry became—me

"Waking up, covered in sweat, aphids crawl in every crevice, dirt blocking out my vision. The little I can see is black, bleary and blurry. Where am I, what is this? There's something sniffing around my ears. Nibbling at the edges, playfully even, ticklish. Rats, mice or something. Maybe ferrets. There's that smell. Polecat, ferret smell. Worms slither in my hair. Trying to break free, can't move my arms, can't move my legs. Are they strapped down? Are they weighed down? By the dirt burying me head to toe. Does it matter? I can't move, I can't escape. Stuck in this hell, stuck in this prison. It feels like a container or box, or maybe coffin? Now I can't think of anything else but coffin, confining me. My nose is itchy, dammit. That seems unimportant but the itch is aggravating. Stuck in this hell, this prison. Who? What? Why? I could speak if I could open my lips. My jaw is sore. Even if I could vocalise what I'm feeling, how I'm reeling in terror. Maybe it's time to embrace it, give in, let it take me. Whatever it is, whoever it is. Fighting seems pointless, helpless, in vain. How can it be that it is how and also cold? There is something else... Spiders? Scorpions crawling and biting or picking at my skin and flesh. Why won't I wake up? Is this even a dream or a never-ending nightmare? I am not sure if I can tell whether I... am awake or not. Why is it getting warmer? Why is it getting darker?"

Why is it getting warmer? Why is it getting darker? The dirt suffocates my breath, and the darkness swallows me whole.

Then.

Silence.

—

But even here, in the void, buried alive, something stirs within the dirt that surrounds me—a seed of doubt? No, a seed of thought, a word fighting to surface. I cannot move, but still my mind spins, scrawling letters into the walls of my hell…

Never to poetry was I drawn

"In the quiet of the night

When the stars dance

In the sparkle of twilight and

Watchful moon glance"

Never in prose was I interested

"In the ethereal darkness

As the nocturnals prance

The serenity, the tranquillity

I should be in the arms of sleep

and counting the sheep who leap"

Always loved wordplay

Rhymes, rhythms,

Innuendos, double entendre

Alliteration, allegories

Irony, puns

Similes, metaphors

"Not awake—

Not wide awake"

Favourites in The Raven, Tam o' Shanter

"Redigesting my past regrets

Reliving my past mistakes

Choking on my past neglects

Fighting usual past suspects

Finding myself stuck

Between the night hag and the nagging

Between the nightmare and the slagging"

But nothing beyond idle fascination

"Dulling it all out

Is easier said than done

Forgiving myself

Is easier said than done

When sleep comes, all is black

Until the nightmare comes"

*

Love and the feeling of home

"Then—"

were not a part of my plan

however—

"In the quiet of the morning

As the birds start to sing

In the light of a new sun

What will the day bring?"

poetry became me

*

Sounds strange, pompous—

but a better way, I don't know

—

Held me as captive

exploited my love for written and oral language

"Do you ever just sit

and wonder

about nothing

at all"

lured me in and enslaved me

"I have to say is

that I'm glad for you

have something

I don't

think I've ever

had before,"

Forever Cursed, I am now, with unwavering enthusiasm

Forever Tortured, I am so deliciously, emphatical

"at least not

since I was young

mind full of hope,

food, music, words,

and thoughts,

and fears,

and anxieties,

that plague"

Now I’m hardwired to think in stanzas

Acrostics tunnel my vision

With this outlet, my feelings, thoughts

my grievances can be laid bare

"me even at peace rest

peace rest - what is that?

is something

I wonder..."

*

There are days when words come quietly, politely beckoning their use

To me, words are fascinating

"Please use me, let me shine, I'll make you proud"

Always, they have been

There are others when words call me at the top of their voices

Matter of time is all it was

"Just use me already, share my majesty, for fuck's sake! Everyone deserves to enjoy my greatness!"

until poetry became me

Still, there are the words that are sly, and slippery

rewired my brain

"You don't need to... use me... if you do, it will be the making of you!"

reorganised its fragments

Then are the most desperate words

haiku and syllables

"It's okay if you'd use me... I'm glad that some words got used!"

I tame and to me, make them yield

All words are valuable, powerful and important

Some pieces are built

the quiet whispered undertones

from intriguing fragments

the loud, pompous rallying cries

Some pieces are built

those you're reluctant to share, that pack the biggest punch

from maddening thoughts

All words are valuable

My words need out, to be free

Transformed, I am

—

I searched for something

—

Chaos exists

It's a constant struggle, fight and wrestle

Unbridled and untethered

(is fight and wrestle both necessary)

insanity

Okay... what was I trying to say? That's right, it's a constant, depressing and disheartening struggle, dealing with the imposter-the asshole. The me that questions everything I do, deep inside, He lurks and reminds me.

inside my mind

But now, there's rhymes, reasons

(Tighten it up, maybe?)

rhymes to be found

I'm not really quite as good as I think, believe, know I am. Even if others contradict me

sounds to be found

(They're lying, ignore them)

Pompous, am I? I am?

Can't you give me a break?

Perhaps

(I'm here to protect you)

That's okay,

It never feels like that

because

(Oh, charming! You realise this... poem)

poetry—became me

*

Closing my eyes

Don't even dare

letters rearranging, reordering into words

(… doesn't rhyme and its flow is way off)

words combining, forming sentences

Its flow is way off because of you, interjecting

sentences becoming verses

(Without my interjecting, you'd never survive)

becoming

I'm sure I'd do fine, I'd enjoy the quiet, the peace

tangible, greater than the components

(What would you be, without the fire I stoke in you though?)

real

The fire you stoke in my?

An invisible concept, it longer is

(Of course, motivates, drives you to creativity)

Floating ideas, it no longer is

It doesn't feel like that

Concepts, "testing your tolerance for pain and discomfort" Ideas with bones, flesh, and sinew "our punisher will work their dark magic on you"

(That's why I'm here)

Concepts, "racks and racks of implements of all shapes and sizes" ideas breaking free from their cages "there is something for everyone"

To belittle me, "unless it is to bargain, plead or argue" knock me down... "reap what you sow, reap what you sow" to make me great? "everyone pays the price... eventually"

Free

to

wield power

(How else will you appreciate your potential?)

Expressing sadness, fear, "dreaded deepest darkness"

distress, confusion, contempt, "dragging me down deeper into the dirt, dust, and dross"

desire, disappointment, awe, "accepting my fate is easier than fighting my dark-shadowed destiny"

anger, amusement, adoration "reaching out, for anything, anyone; nothing and no one is there, but me"

With kind encouragement— "knotted ropes attached to my legs and my hands, attempting to escape is futile at best"

Expansive mind states of hope "next comes the knife that's pressed to my chest; the piercing blade invades my skin"

angst, despair and arousal "everything starts to get darker, the blackness is fading into nothingness"

(you sure we're in the same head?)

Describe in vivid detail

dark, dusky and dank nights "something or someone is approaching in the darkness and blackness"

bright, blue and blissful days "silence surrounds me, apart from my heart, which is failing and fading as my eyes close..."

*

"If I were a sculptor, painter, singer

You'd be my Venus de Milos, Venus of Urbino, I'd perform Your Song and try not to get it wrong"

bored into my mind

I do wonder, when all is said

encouraged me to bleed

(See... you've started rhyming)

its contents

I still don't like your chiming

taunts, pushes me to use its power

(I'm not here to be liked)

awakens creativity

Odd, I thought adoration got psyched

its power, yearns for me to use

(I disagree, and nice save right there)

forces looking inwards

I'm not convinced that you even care

To wordplay, syllables, it opens my mind

(I care, Oh Captain, My Captain)

my abilities, undermined, pushing my skills

Self-preservation?

nudges me to continue, its siren call beckons me

(What else... I'm not sure I like you)

drowning, waterboarding me in written and oral language

Would your mind change if I liked you?

Impossibility for escape, it has created

(My mind would change if you avoided lazy rhyming)

"But I'm not a sculptor, painter, singer

I am a writer"

so, I just

give

in

"And words are the best way for me to rejoice

that we are still together"

*

Really? That's intriguing. I'll keep it in mind

(Where's the rhyme? the rhyme you didn't even try to find?)

I'm done, had enough with you

(The day that happens, you will rue)

“Heavy hands, head, heart

at sleep, I creep out into the dull light

Heavy, harsh, horizon

from his mouth - a spider

Happiness, hidden, hushed

I start to type for him

hatred heightened

type the words for him to speak

heartless hostility

as he slumbers

holding heavily

things he'd never share, never dare

heaped, heaving

things he'd never contemplate

happiness hastening

I type

hope

helps

He sleeps

He never wonders about how much writing is done

when he drips saliva on his keyboard

and his snores fill the room

he's trapped in dreamland nightmare

I - take over, take the wheel

I - let him take credit

I - let him have the spotlight”

That could be true, I am not about to dismiss that loosely veiled threat. Really though, what can you do for me? You're in my head, but I control the ship. So, I can throw you overboard and leave you stranded at sea

(Wait... though... don't dare ignore me, you need me)

Too late

(but... but... but... but)

The door, which separates me from you, imposter, is shut

*

poetry became—me

****

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: This is an experimental, prose, stream composed of several reworked, paraphrased and tweaked elements from various existing poems by yours truly. I will update this to include the full list later. I understand it is a long read, so appreciate anyone who takes the time to read it!

Poetry Found Me was the bones from which it was formed, though, which you can find here: