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Click hereOut of the blue
it came pouring out,
like when frantic fingers,
not even conscious,
scratch a deepening
wound red patch
that may once have itched
but now only burns
from that relentless assault,
and gives way to the pain
welling up from nails stuck
in flesh tearing
and warm blood
coating that fingertip
from beneath.
You don't even ache
until you feel
that sticky ooze
erasing friction,
forming a trail
down the wrist,
before dripping
off an unaware digit
on the carving hand's
idle innocent twin...
...and then look down,
straining to comprehend
the signals shooting
from that tormented
patch of sensors.
Then reality dawns
and pain explodes,
when it's too late.
Out of the blue it came,
and nobody thought
of ignorant claws,
ignored through years,
carving careless cuts
in the fragile skin
of a delicate agreement.
And when it broke
we were all so busy
looking the other way
that the first drops
hit like rain,
building rivers...
...and inevitable
the flood reigned.
Because
the collective of us,
bereft of will,
drained of self control
just
could
not
stop
scratching
that god damn
infection.
for Rosia 1981-2004
scratch it, Or suffer, dont scratch Still suffer, TK U MLJ LV NV
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 34,000 poems.
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A difficult subject in
A difficult read carefully crafted to
Pull the reader through.
of my days as a cutter...best forgotten but remembered too
you are an excellent writer Icingsugar, def one of the best here on Lit, I have yet to read anything by you that I did not like in one way or another
this is painful in many ways, you did a great job painting a picture that is not easy to recreate or read, but is important.