for the man in tremendum
fully mad in autumn
the sea-winds grew
stood alone upon my labor
in a cement box; it wasn’t an act of love
nor was it an act of god,
I see the dead potatoes
of our graves. Gulping in your absence,
there is no agony or languor
beneath the words in darker glory to refract
from my mind, but of the world it is not mine
loneliness releases abandonment
unreliable, yet it still forms besotted
a crimson rose. Twirl for me, darling,
I am displeased yet most precariously
it is a death sentence that cradles
my madness and pet.
exploiting labor and scars,
additives, [it’s not]
One last breath
drowning, this is my ego-ic sickness
my glitch, draining
and echoing bent on hellscape
as it drips into my palm
the sway of chests
as I’ve died.
© 2021 Pseudopsychosis All Rights Reserved.
Posted for the 8/05/2021 dVerse Open Link Night.
This is the final, completed draft of my original Solicitude/Solitude poem. I still do have the dark versions I talked about and I’ll probably reveal them another time, maybe when my writing slows down a bit (and when I no longer have shame). Both draft versions were unsatisfying in my mind with the end result. I just wasn’t happy with it. I like what I added here, so it may be the final draft. God, I hope so.
I found the inspiration to finish this poem from a series of prompts by perceptivepoetics and goldlacedink. This, specifically, is part of a writing prompt called #InsideWithAlyAndBri which utilizes inspiration of Bo Burnham’s “Inside.” If you have Instagram, I’d recommend following Alyssa and Bri. They’re such lovely and hilarious people. I’m so happy I’ve gotten to know them a little better in our writing chat.
The quote I used from Bo Burnham was this: “exploiting neurochemical drama.”
The first half of this piece ends at the potato line. I was thinking of my grandfather, and how I never knew him. He died long ago I could have ever gotten the chance to actually know him or really remember him from beyond the phone. I will admit I don’t remember WHAT my headspace was when I wrote this because some lines are just dark on their own. I think I was aiming for how our place is all in the grave.
The second half starts with “Gulping…”
I go right in with addictions to different things, and what I had in mind was from the quote itself: Drama. I think many people exploit others for drama or can manipulate people just right to get the desired reactions they want. With any addiction, the user will want more and they won’t stop until it probably kills them. Drama doesn’t kill like that, but the type of pleasure you get from it in the brain, it grows more.
Unless you have a conscience. I don’t know.