Nerves Inside
let dirt arise, let filth grow in my mouth, the last terrible sinner.
some salty residue. some terrific fear. words I never use.
like dying in absence, to hear the last engine, screaming in God’s ear.
so deranged. so estranged. cut to grit. but I had to live.
I hear it hissing. I smell the last tiger. the dragon has come for a feast.
so uncomfortable—nothing is working—the hope is deaths come to pass—is the grand experience.
to pass a secret, it becomes hellish—the denial of any comforts; just composing, looking empty, filled like skies.
I gazed into her, drifting into my illusion, searching for a correlation; regathered at the fringes, plummeted inside, a cauldron made most explosive.
the first strategist was a woman. the first bones were consecrated. the first deception was on a sabertooth.
to see a man must die to possess—to have his Kingdom a woman has decorated—the interior of the imbalance; to and fro, the lawyer laughing, the shower upon humanity.
I trudge through marsh, each word is hard won, I aim to own vocabulary: the sexy, violent atmosphere, the shadowy frustration, as granny said:
“To watch me die. to shun my dying. assorted by candies and chocolates and cocoa—with fire brimming into lungs, a nerve inside, drenched in nakedness.”
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"Nerves Inside" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 9 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/121012/nerves-inside>.
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