Thursday, May 29, 2014

bête noire

carefully cupping a tremulous heart with blood feathers
caging its writhing muscle inside angular confines of pink bone
slippery pieces, thick with asphyxiation, slump against one another
and every involuntary pulse threatens outright dismemberment

firmly callused fingertips freshen indolent wounds that will never heal
because they have sprouted deep between the root of survival and my solar plexus
a low-lidded third eye stoically observes from above while viscus drips across barren hips
and it is all I can do to just breathe

haplessly peel back layers hopelessly papered to someone else's walls
salvaging star-crossed hands to prevent purple offal from colliding with silk
plucked from beneath tenuously timid toes as this chest lurches forward
and stumbles along to a whimpering score of weakly gurgling flow





(on the bright side, there is no chance of falling if you never bore full weight)

14 comments:

  1. Wow LuLu, incredible... I was trying to articulate this the other night and I could night find the words... this is perfect, peeling back layers from the wall paper that is papered to someone else.. That peeling can be painful but a necessity...

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    1. Thank you, Launna. I also liked the imagery of the wall paper. I was actually thinking of expanding this idea a little further in a future entry. I've never literally peeled wall paper, but I've been told it is quite an arduous task.

      xx

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  2. Wow - so many thoughts here. I confess to not being totally sure how to interpret it. I think my interpretation is that our hearts, while damaged, still beat and still hold life and love...

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    1. Yeah, this is a little heavy... a little darker than my usual ramblings, but it makes me happy that you saw the hope in it, too. I think it's about loss and heartache, but mostly about the strength to carry on even after your insides have become outsides. And, yeah, despite everything... it still beats.

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  3. you use great words lulu, you make me think...and, i think sometimes breathing is the only thing we can do... or at least control.

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    1. Thanks, Kayla (you always use wonderful words, also). Although breathing is technically involuntary, I find it incredible how it sometimes takes every ounce of focus just to do it. Both in our control... but ultimately out of it, too.

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  4. mostly about the strength to carry on even after your insides have become outsides. And, yeah, despite everything... it still beats.

    i love this insides become outsides the heart as a controller of bodily functions and emotional ones too xxx

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    1. insides, outsides
      at some point it's all just flesh and blood

      xx

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  5. As long as there's a heart there's a life? I find it so hard to just carry on, I'm helplessly restless, always wishing for something else, something more.

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    1. But don't you think being restless IS a sign of carrying on? If your feet are moving, it's proof you are living. (I don't believe in zombies)

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  6. These are such sharp words put together in the most beautiful barbed wire poem. I love this. You use words in the most surprising and wonderful ways, LuLu.

    Em
    Tightrope to the Sun

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    1. I love the idea of *using* words. Doing what you want with them. That's what they're for, I suppose. To be used. To be worked over. To be melted and reshaped. That is all. Thank you.

      xx

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  7. flawless. restless. alive.

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  8. What can I say that others haven't already said? A beautiful swirl of words and emotions.

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