wretched-insides
my wretched insides in the form of poetry
"There's an angel on my shoulder
A devil at my door"
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𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐑. 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐄
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Margherita La Toms
Text
The Invisible Creature
There is a creature
On the side of my body
Just below my ribcage
It bites and claws
And pulls and rips
Until the skin is no more
Than shredded fabric
The organs pull apart
And intestines fall out
A gurney rolls beneath me
There's yelling and bright white light
I have a headache now
They sew up my skin
Jagged and taut
The anesthesia forgot
So I feel every needle
Every hand, every thing
Awoken in my bed
By the sharp pull of stitches
Look in the mirror
"There's nothing wrong with you" they say
As I stare at the skin
On my side
Just below my ribcage
Porcelain white
Not a scar in sight
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Knees on the floor
Eyes toward the heavens
But I get diatracted
By your lips, your neck, your tongue.
Count the rosary beads in my hands
Bend forward, kiss the cross
Can Mother Mary save me now?
Because I've seen hell
And it is more divine the sun
Peering through their stained glass windows
And I will gladly take communion
From the devil's alter
For one more taste
Of your holy body
And when judgement day is upon us
And I confess my sins
I will ask God
"How could I resist?
For she is an Idol among men"
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The Chariot of Death (1848)
— by Théophile Schuler
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Eden's Lie
I have knelt in a church pew
And listened for God
Praying for the days
To simply be good
I have taken myself
To the Garden of Eden
To learn about good and evil
Try as I might I could not see
Why the earth needed suffering
Why the world craves destruction
I ate from the tree and did not die
As the fruit slid down my mortal throat
I yearned to be closer to Him
But all He did was lie
He created earth and light and air
He claimed to love me but never to need me
He is the power the fury and the night
He imbued our souls with darkness and plight
I was but a small hungry magpie
Searching for the truth
When He cut off my wings
And left me slowly to die
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Detail — Portrait of Philippe de Croy (1460) by Rogier van der Weyden † Savonarola by Michael Hussar
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I want to listen to a song
About missing someone
Written
By the person that I miss
Then
If I never see them again
At least I'll know
They missed me too
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Broken Yearning
If only I could crawl inside my lover
To hibernate for the winter
Would they protect me
Like a mother to an unborn child?
Would I finally feel the rest
That everyone else claims to know?
Would it make me feel safe
From my own rotting mind?
How can I live
Inside your heart
Without ripping you to shreads?
Without putting you in the ground?
Can what you give me now
Be enough?
I let you slip a piece of yourself
Inside my body
But I cannot do the same to you.
You left something there
That I did not want
My body tried with all its might
To turn it into something beautiful
But I am a victim of my own existence
I cannot create life
Even through pain
For I am already bleeding to death.
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