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A Hole

May 9, 2013

Longing for a dip

In the pool of familiarity, take the strain off

Relaxing in not fighting

The force pulling me down.

Were I to stab the source ceaselessly with a spear point

Were I to tear the flesh burning my soul

Were I to split down the middle with a smile in my eyes

Then I could sleep well tonight.

The crunch I mistake for hunger

The ache I confuse with desire

Drive toward the blade, anything to stop the fervor.

Would a rampuri stop the pleading in my chest?

Would the bleeding make quick work of me?

Would the cravings stop?

How does one destroy a hole?

2 Comments leave one →
  1. May 12, 2013 9:50 pm

    This piece is strong and visual, and I applaud you for your frankness. My only child, a son, suffers from schizoaffective disorder and BP1. He has expressed these same thoughts to me, so this poem rang true. Thank you.

    • May 12, 2013 11:04 pm

      Thank you so much. I wish you luck and peace with your son. It can’t be easy.

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