Wound.

This wound
being dead, did it make me go mad?
I take streams of water 
from the glass; lie down in bed
write poetry

soon my body’s
in the asbestos-white sheet
or bathtub, whichever is first,

 delete it from my psyche
then sleep

© 2021 Pseudopsychosis All Rights Reserved.

Written for the 7/26/2021 dVerse quadrille prompt: stream.

74 thoughts on “Wound.”

  1. The white shroud, the moving pen, sleep as a little death, madness as process, poetry as refuge–all that and more–nice work.

    Liked by 4 people

    1. Thank you so much. Admittedly, I was drained when writing it so this is more concise in imagery than what I generally do. Guess it shows I need more sleep today lol.

      Liked by 3 people

  2. The human mind harbors so much, doesn’t it? I think of the traumas that it has to endure, like flooding which occurs by water, the mind is taken into a deep dive of emotions that haunt at night. A most gorgeously dark write, Lucy 💝💝

    Liked by 4 people

  3. This poem really evokes my own experiences with PMDD, for me! It feels like madness sometimes, and I have to keep reminding myself its just my body playing tricks on me…

    Liked by 2 people

  4. “delete it from my psyche” – I love that line. Reminds me of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Also, it conjures up an image to me of a dystopian future where something like that would be possible … 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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