Finding Me

Poem.

I rip into my chest, my nails
claw deeper and deeper,
blood and blood, blue strings
pour out as I dig deeper, as I
tear into myself trying to find
something, anything, something
to grab onto, the strings just
keep falling out, blood, yarn,
ribbons, dribble down my chest,
my eyes grip my heart, grip my
fingers, my nails that shred
my soul’s skin, that frantically
screams into my eyes, into my
nails, wet from all the cyan
strings, the dull chords that
I’ve forced into me, but never
made the sounds I wanted it to.
Deeper and deeper I go, I tear
everything to bits, tear all
the pieces that make me, me
the paper mache that people
have created by pasting a piece
of themselves onto me, one at
a time, laughing, passing me,
laughing, talking, laughing,
one piece at a time. So I rip
and I tear, and I breathe flames
so that I can burn through the
rage that they’ve stuffed into
me, that they’ve stuck onto
my skin. I become less, and less,
more and more of me, less
and less of the world, more and
more of what I am, more or
less nothing. Less or more
human. Layers of layers litter
the world, the world my trashcan,
the world my enemy, the world
is not human, but we are it.
So I scream, and I laugh, as my
chest caves in, as my chest becomes
more shallow with each rip,
with each damn nail full of dirt,
until I finally feel pain, until I
can finally see my blood, red.

Author's Note

Art: http://fav.me/d4z6gwu