papercuts of the soul.

inspired in part by an orlando furioso poem, and my reaction to it...

i am dying of a thousand tiny losses

papercuts of my soul

never cutting to the quick

no

just scoring the flesh 

enough to bleed

to sting

tho without the ability to comfort the wound

as one would a finger,

- an inhaled hiss followed

by a quick sucking of digit in mouth

(comfort learned in childhood

with some appalling freudian concept, i'm sure) -

i can only sit and take the minute slash

knowing it will just hurt for a moment

but with each freshly given stripe

i'm brought closer to

the maximum amount of damage my self will allow

before i will bleed out

a multihued river

that no dam or bandaid or stitch can corral into safety

when that happens

when the papercuts win

is far beyond my imagination's reach

"well, then what?"

is a question i can only wonder at

it's not mine to find the answer...

Reviews

[Gandré]

Oh I so liked how you started the poem - to be dying of thousands tiny losses - the metaphors - scoring the flesh - wow, I am so impressed by your imagination! Then I read and read and think, our environment, often the family members so, are already cruel enough to cause frustration or even pain, and therefore we should caress ourselves, love each centimeter of our body and soul, for nobody ever can love me like I love myself.... this is my personal recipe... haha and it works when I am aware. The point is, we might be not always aware.. looking at the psychic structure and function, Freud allocated the task of fostering the sense of our reality to a hypothetical neural structure, or functional part of the mind, which he called ‘das Ich’, or the ego, and the ego, super-ego and id are neural systems described in a functional way, freud says and to me this says -we need to be always aware except when we are sleeping. Even then we should watch our dreams, like the Aborigines (I like their myths and sayings) and other indigenous people. I believe the modern western society with its superfluous 24/7-entertainment and life and stress from job to job to home to family and hobby and body cult .. not often we do find to our self.. makes it often impossible to stay aware.. I thought: - that no dam or bandaid or stitch can corral into safety - --- what a line! Always impressed, amazed how you create.

[James Paulin]

Slow torture comes in many forms and your poem describes a seemingly helpless circumstance that is terminal. The question then is what is next. The theme is broad enough to apply to life in general or a temporary situation. I like the way you left the door open to the possibility of hope.

[Wildfleour]

There are so many things we allow to cut, just at the surface, our soul. But with each paper cut, we weaken, just a bit.

A very thought-provoking poem.

[R J Askew]

this feels slightly different to your normal style as you pack in a few extra words, esp in verse two ... I enjoyed the self-observation and the internal comments on the way things are. As I read I felt quite strongly that each working day in an unremarkable office is like a little paper cut and that there is only so much we can take.

[Michael X]

Phenomonal. Capitalized. A thousand paper cuts, the unique, abstract poeticness drew me in and the passionate power kept me there. in the brilliance of this poem. makes me want to read the inspiration, thanks for sharing!