Letting Eve in (Draft).

letting Eve into the garden
that palisade dragging that locus
of my own death.

This time, I think of God
where this winter, I am falling apart;
swaddle me or not, I cannot even cry.
In so few words, fragmentary and moving about
as if excessive but that’s all it is:
in a moment, I forgot who I was.

In a moment,
sometimes, I feel a bullet calling to my head
like a magnet. Not my suicide,
but peering through the walls—as an accident—
since I was a child.
I had the oddest tendencies and thoughts,
a pupa only dreaming to drown in the water,
like my grandfather; war machine and abandoned.

I have all the potential to be an alcoholic
like him; it could be something we have in common
as I never knew him growing up.

It’s in my blood, after all,
and now I dream of the bottle.

This body twists, I am fragmentary.
betweenness; otherness in the summer grass,
yellow grass of my childhood home.
that otherness, that ether-ness
I despise it and it despises me.

Anticipation; the multiples in my head;
touch me or not, I’ll take another place.
It’s easy since I don’t keep friends.

I would shun the moon,
she gave nothing but light
to a heart that still bleeds over;
her eyes are entirely dissonant
in excess, and all of it goes to nature
like Saturn eating his son like the chicken [he is].
My hero turned out to be a monster,
it sinks further in my chest; frail leaves
and empty words spill—spill;

rejecting my own grief,
the baby forms in the womb
it starts here, right here—

Sickly child, I was,
small hole in heart,
the lonely birth; a baby cries.

© 2021 Pseudopsychosis All Rights Reserved.


I don’t exactly know my headspace when writing this, other than going through my own grief this holiday season. I have a very close relative that may have cancer, but we won’t know for sure until a couple weeks; with all the limbo, it’s absolutely heartbreaking and stressful. Why am I sharing this with over four thousand strangers and counting? Fuck if I know. It’s good to let it out.

And also over four-thousand people (including bots and probably a few who just want to watch me crash and burn, but hey cheers, you do you, I guess?) that follow this site, it amazes me, you all amaze me. I know it’s small potatoes compared to other sites but I really do appreciate the support you give and how uplifting you are, along with reading your poetry and connecting with you. It really reinstates my faith in humanity. Thank you and I hope you’re all doing okay too. I feel like the holiday season can be tough for many.

This piece was originally going to be the modified version of Do not tell me what I was (which was selfishly delving into a bit with what I am going through now), but this metamorphosed into a theme unlike the one in that poem.

Some of the lines in this piece are autobiographical; alcoholism is in my family, and I’m afraid of succumbing to it in my bloodline–to the point it manifests in my nightmares. I was born with a small hole in my heart that eventually closed up, and my parents visited me in the NICU everyday. I wasn’t quite a sickly child, but I went through stomach problems and GI issues throughout my pre-teen years to now in my twenties, so that clears up that. If anyone has seen Repo! The Genetic Opera, a low-budget horror musical, I still somewhat relate to Infected, both with physical and mental health problems. Alexa PenaVega nailed that teenage angst sound well.

As for the suicide references, I think it’s anxiety or intrusive thoughts causing that feeling. I’m not actively suicidal though I have struggled with plenty of thoughts in the past. I try to take it day by day, and having supportive parents and friends helps me keep going.

I guess the latter half of this poem mixes all those different feelings. The hero-monster line, though, was when finding out Anne Sexton sexually abused her daughter, Linda Gray Sexton, throughout her childhood; and I’m not saying Sexton was my poetry hero, but damn, it just goes to show that you really don’t know anything about your own “heroes.”

Also was inspired by some of João-Maria‘s work throughout this piece. Be sure to check him out if you haven’t.


38 thoughts on “Letting Eve in (Draft).”

  1. This poem is charged with meaning and artistry! It is lyrically powerful and flows so beautifully! You have such clarity of thought here! And as I reach the end, there is this strong sense of pathos! Liked your prose write up too! It is an honest and good commentary on the poem and your life! As far as the number of followers you mention for your blog, and your thoughts on your poetry; I want you to know that you are the best Internet poet I’ve read so far! Some of your poems with their raw pain, presence of blood and tragic atmosphere have taken me to great heights of lyric sublimity! Best wishes Lucy! And cheers!

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Oh my goodness, Dominic, I don’t even think a “Thank you” cuts into how appreciative I am for your lovely and supportive words. It’s absolutely beautiful to me how you resonated with this piece, and reading this commentary from such a brilliant writer himself, I feel humbled at such praise. I think the same of your writing with its raw edge and punch in both the simplicity and chaos of language, it’s honest to the bone; the flow itself moves you around in the story like a dance that even in the more emotional pieces, I feel myself falling through each word and its background. You’re an inspiration to me!

      Thank you so, so, so much! As I said, a “Thank you” does not express enough my deep gratitude and delight at your response. Thank you for being a powerful voice in the writing community. Keep creating, keep inspiring. Cheers to you as well and I wish you and yours a blessed and Happy New Year. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Jaya! That’s quite sweet of you to say. Honestly, I was torn whether or not to post my poem with the after-note, thinking “Am I being too personal? Is this wise to be vulnerable?” But then I thought, fuck it, I’m not here to pretend everything is okay and I want to be real and honest in my writing; not only for myself, but to find that same thing in other people who can share and understand too, and that maybe they (and myself) are not as alone as they thought in such circumstances.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. The poem IS very powerful — I am hoping it was very cathartic, too. Cancer seems to dance in everyone’s life sooner or later. And there is no easy way to deal with it. Ever. Keep writing — it will give you and outlet and, hopefully, some peace.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It was pretty cathartic. Had it rough this week and just needed to write my heart out, which I guess is why this poem turned out as raw as it did (and that’s not a bad thing). Yeah, my dad told me that too tonight and it just hits hard but in some ways, we just have to find ways to move day by day and take in all the little things that make a difference in life. As you say, there’s no easy way to deal with it.

      Thank you for the heartfelt comment. You’re too kind. ❤ Hope all is well and wishing you and yours a Happy New Year. ❤

      Like

  3. The power in this poem is unbelievable. It cries through your words. I hope all goes well with your family, I had a friend who recently passed from cancer and it was the not knowing which cut to the quick

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh Pam, my condolences. I am so sorry for your loss; it really is crazy especially when you think that it wouldn’t happen to you or someone you love–and that’s the thing, the not knowing of it and being in this state of limbo, it’s like being dissociative because it feels just that unbelievable that it might be happening. It’s agony that twists at me and hoping against hope.

      Thank you so much for your kind words and for sharing about your friend. Again, I am so sorry. Much love to you and yours. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  4. The part about despising the other ness and it disposing you, what do you mean? And the part about your grandfather being a war machine and abandoned? Sorry sometimes I tend to over think things lol

    Also, the part about alcoholism really hit me, not in a bad way, but my birth father I believe struggled with alcoholism and depression and I only knew him for the first few months of my life

    I’ve become close to relying on alcohol once or twice in the past, but I usually stop myself when I feel like I’m getting worse

    I barely drink anymore, I never drank enough to be considered an alcoholic, but it’s in my blood and long story short, I could relate to that a part of your poem

    So thank you for sharing this

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for such a kind and thoughtful reply, Larkyn! I really do appreciate it and also thanks for visiting my humble horror of a site lol. And don’t apologize, I love when people want to understand whatever the hell I’ve written. 😀 Sometimes, I even forget the meaning in some lines; doesn’t help that I rely on the abstract and it’s only recently I’m trying to be more direct in my writing.

      About the despising otherness and it despising me, I was thinking of closeness especially when taking comfort from friends or family; and even that otherness in different areas of my life that provide me comfort. There’s only so much one can do to feel okay in a stressful situation, and that when the comfort no longer comforts you, you start losing hope. I have been comforted by family and helped comfort family, but that little thought drifts when I find myself alone at night, thinking of the worst, thinking of what I could lose, and thinking how selfish my thoughts are when I’m not even the one going through this limbo of maybe or maybe not having cancer. It’s an endless cycle.

      So about my grandfather, I wrote about him a little before and he served in the Vietnam war, hence the line “War machine and abandoned…” He was never the same, and added in with abuse from his mom during childhood, he suffered a nervous break from PTSD and delved onto a difficult road after that. From my recollection, he suffered with alcohol. His mom was a whole other story. According to my dad, she would come to reunions with a gigantic jug of wine and start drinking around the entire family (including the kids).

      I’m also really sorry to hear about your biological father. That’s so sad. And about your experiences with alcohol, my heart goes out to you. I have so many thoughts and temptations that I feel like I could come close to just drinking (and really only during crises). I know–somewhere deep down inside–that if I drank that first sip, I’d be an alcoholic. It haunts me.

      I resonate with your story too and I thank you for sharing what you’ve been through. It takes a lot of will power and determination not to fall down that path. I hope all is well with you and I wish you a Happy New Year’s Eve. ❤ ❤

      Like

      1. Hey, you’re welcome!

        I just wasn’t sure because I’ve only heard of “otherness “ as a word that basically describes how people make certain groups of people feel

        And so I wasn’t sure what you meant

        Sometimes I over think things

        I appreciate you taking the time to explain that to me

        Also, just because you aren’t going through that limbo, doesn’t mean that you’re necessarily being selfish. You’re allowed to feel the way you do regarding a family member who has cancer

        As much as I don’t really know how I feel about war, I wish wars didn’t have to exist, no one should have to go through what he did in his childhood.

        Aw please don’t be sorry. But I do something wonder what he was thinking about before he died. I’m always here if you want to talk.

        Idk if there’s a messaging thing on here, but you can always write a random comment on one of my posts and put an email or something and I’ll contact you and delete the comment after, if needed

        Thank you so much 🙂

        Sorry it took me a bit to respond.

        Happy New year to you too!

        Liked by 1 person

  5. I am falling apart;
    swaddle me or not, I cannot even cry…
    in a moment, I forgot who I was.

    I love how you bring us back to this imagery of the baby at the end, Lucy.

    I feel a bullet calling to my head
    like a magnet.

    And this – is just – so intense – and it even makes me kind of think of Magneto who can control metal 🧲

    that otherness, that ether-ness

    Beautiful.

    rejecting my own grief,
    the baby forms in the womb
    it starts here…

    Simply – art. This poem is masterful.

    Thank you for being so open and sharing with us.
    And I’m glad that you’re actually okay 🙂


    David

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you so, so much, David! I just felt like I had to include that baby imagery; something so small about it in its symbolism, yet I wanted to tie it in with how impactful it felt to me, these little moments throughout my life.

      Hahaha, so this definitely shows how unfamiliar I am with Marvel (I only dipped my toe with Doctor Strange and the Scarlet Witch), but damn, Magneto looks wicked! I can see how you thought of that character with those lines.

      I just thank you so much for your kind words and thoughts. I had a back and forth with myself about whether or not to post this piece with the author’s note, but I wanted to be open and honest while also understanding that it’s an uneasy topic with intense and chaotic themes of losing control, spiraling, and feeling alone in uncertainty. And as well, I thank you for the concern. I’ve been doing as well as I can be lately, but the one thing I’m glad is that I haven’t been in a horrible headspace mentally in a long time which I’m thankful for.

      Hope all is well with you and yours. Wishing you a Happy New Year! ❤

      Like

    1. Thank you so very much, Maria. That means so much to me. And wow, please give my absolute blessings to your mom; I know the road and journey is never easy. Happy New Year’s Eve to you and yours. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Your so welcome…I know how hard it is in life especially when a loved one is sick or worse.
        Its heartbreaking…hard to go on..thats why I just hang in more to God during the harder times.
        Somehow…we make it through to better days.. if we don’t give up.❤🙏🏾

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I’m trying to put my faith into what’s out there, but truly it is hard. I’m taking comfort in some psalms from the Bible just hoping beyond hope. You are very right–better days will come ahead, we just have to keep going with what we have to see them. ❤

        Like

  6. Thank you for sharing the back story to this poem. I am sorry to hear of your relative who might have cancer. The poetry community is a wonderful group of folks and the interactions are priceless. Hang in there!
    dwight

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Dwight. That means a lot to me. The poetry community has been beautiful and I’m glad I can interact with you all. ❤ It’s been an experience, but I’m glad to say that it’s mostly been uplifting, supportive, and positive. dVerse has been a main highlight for me during the past couple years; wish I joined y’all earlier but better late than never, right?

      Liked by 1 person

  7. This is a powerful piece! Very intense but don’t feel bad about sharing it. When it must come out, it must come out! “This body twists, I am fragmentary. betweenness; otherness in the summer grass” These lines spoke to me, having felt them much during my early to mid-20s. I’d said it passes but in reality, it becomes a different type of confusion with each decade. But also with it comes insight. Fret not, these growing pains of our lives, Lucy!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Susi, thank you. Sometimes, with self-disclosure, I feel ashamed and that is something I wrestle with in daily life, how much to reveal about myself and get close to others. I’m also glad you could resonate with those lines, and being in my early 20’s myself, that is how I feel, hahaha. 🙂 Different decades, different anxieties. Cheers to passing old ones with new ones, I guess we can say.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You’re welcome, Lucy! One piece of advice, if I may, don’t ever feel ashamed of what you feel or even disclosure. It is you, and sharing that with people is what drives our connections. And they are important! I wish you well on your journey. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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