ferule

I'm always chilled and trembling
till the coffee warms me up,
chug it so hot till

I take my clothes off.

Black and bitter, it hits my tongue,
soft and sweat soaked,

my sweater hits the floor.

I've always stretched much further than my body can physically go,
so on a good day I see it extend through the walls
and on the bad, you'll see nothing leave my mouth.

Always sitting cross eyed and red cheeked,
the friend of a hot hand willing to hit ya,

My hair greyed early to tell me,
I'd be good to calm down,
for the sake of my body,

but mountains feel small when you're born to be alone,
you're just standing at the bottom
thinking that this is all there is.

My skin, quality made, came straight from the creamery.

My cheek made ready
for a pinch between thumb and forefinger.

I've pressed my own in to kill the porcelain look,
but it returns milky with a fervid force.

I'm nothing but a sweet,
condensed woman on the look out for a birch rod.

Where is the next ferule
that I can ready myself to be doomed by?

I've been looking for the perfect familiar hands to hold it.

Reviews

[. serah .]

-- i know i'm reading this piece through the prism of my own experiences when i say that i'm startled by the way you illustrate the effect of violence... on the surface, it seems like our "condensed" psyche/existence is almost demanding that we be crushed/disfigured... by someone in the vicinity... ("familiar hands")... but actually we're asserting ourselves, aren't we...? -- i dunno if my interpretation works for you, but it definitely works for me... -- this is an empowering read... and you have a haunting writing voice...

[wolfshrew]

Your interpretations works for me because it works for you. I feel like it kind of straddles negative violence and positive sexuality, just depending on how you read it. I think both of those things have always heavily resided in my writing and I appreciate that you took the time to look at it.

[. serah .]

-- ah, i hear you... thank you for the additional insight... english is not my first language and so it's really nice when someone helps me read a piece more intricately/accurately... and you're very welcome... i find your writing very insightful...

[wolfshrew]

I'd have never guessed that about you, it only impresses me more.

[. serah .]

-- oh, thank you... :)

[Matching Socks]

Hmm, open to interpretation this one.
Some of us seek the spanking for pleasure, others for punishment because of some sense of worthlessness.
Either way it's a good poem for the thoughts it provokes. I like it.

[M. Shepherd]

Ive been thinking about the idea of an ever fluctuating and relative perceptual size and it brought me back here - how much bigger people can be than mountains, how words get trapped and lost in the labyrinth between larynx and lips, stillborn or even unconceived. "On the bad you'll see nothing leave my mouth" and all the frustration of that. This piece is haunting and effective, honest and hard hitting. A fragility at odds with a feline ferocity.

[Unforgiven Guy]

I enjoy your style of self expression. Thanks for sharing.

[A hare off]

"but mountains feel small when you're born to be alone," This line really made me pause and think, what a brilliant thought, vision, idea comes from this line. The entire poem was gripping, holding me in place, telling me, stick around this is really good. And I did and it was.

[wolfshrew]

I appreciate you taking the time to read this. Thank you.