poetry 2

2nd Jun, 2025

Hey. Hey, you.
Content warning for gore and possibly body horror(?), and detailed-ish descriptions of things that would definitely be murder if this wasn't a poem.

Anyway, it's about feeling lost and loved at the same time.

Thanks. Take care.

==========

Subtly, quicky crack open my skull.
Remove the skin, the scalp, the protective plate.
Expose the meat.

Dig your fingertips into the whorls and creases of my brain.
Sink yourself into the grey miasma.
I want you to find Me.

...

Is it in there? My core and being? My sense of self?
Can you find any such thing?

... No.
Lets try somewhere else. Put my skull back, please.

Slip off my shirt. Lay me down on my back.
Run a tender hand down my chest, counting each rib. Then crack them. One by one.
Find the sharp edges. Pull them free.
Flay back the thin covering of skin.

You see my heart, my lungs?
Wet, writhing meat.
Air, blood, in and out. in and out.
Reach in and dig around again.
Caress and probe and squeeze.
Find Me.

... still nothing? Hm.

Help me get my shirt back on, please.
Don't worry about the mess.

Lets go a little higher.

Run your sharp nails along the ridges of my throat.
Surgically and lovingly, remove a section so you can see.
The tendons of my neck.
The tubes that let me breathe and eat.
The little box that makes Me sound like me (I think).
Gaping and inelegant.
What a beautiful hole you've left.

...am I in there? Can you see Me?
...... No. still no. Well, that's a shame.

Stitch me back up then.
Don't mind the choking.
It'll go away.

Where else should we check?

...

Yes, you're right.
If my Me isn't inside me, I must have left it somewhere else.

... Would you lay down and get comfortable for me, please?

Good girl. This won't take long.