Poetry Attempt: A New Nightmare of Nonsense and Torture

 My well of creativity has once again dried up. Writing seems to be an insurmountable task of supreme stress, pressure, and effort. I deeply despise how unpredictable creativity can be, I deeply despise how limited I am in my own writing, and I deeply despise how incapable I am of surrendering to the craft of writing. My mind feels polluted, my body feels like murky leaden silver slowly drifting through my veins, the world around me has long since been drained of color and inspiration, and there's nothing left but uncontrollable and unwanted nightmares of violence.  "The dreamer is still dreaming." I guess I am stating all of this as a nonsense preamble to explain away why the following poem is truly terrible, uncreative, and unnecessarily violent. Even writing this feels like a chore, and finishing this poem felt like I had to populate my insides with a multitude of tiny fish hooks and put all of my lack of strength into heaving out these words in a halfway sensical and poetic fashion. This one is a failure, but I have to get it out of my system and separate myself from it in totality. 

“One day your eggs are going to hatch

And very strange birds are going to emerge.”

- Jhonn Balance

Dreams in the Dirt

Stilted heartbeat thumps

From outside the body

A pack of crows perched on a masticated artery 

Beaks plunged into the spurting muscle 

I’ve got a death penalty

Tattooed in the holes lining my forehead 

Rivers of capsuled chemicals dripping through

Toiling in my bedsheets of dirt

Atmosphere cutting off 

With sinister swirling sounds projecting

All the unwanted nonsense that’s to come. 

Dreaming at gunpoint

Permanently in fear of what’s bound to manifest

A new tiredness overwhelms

Drags the eyes further into existential mire

Where up floats the gnarled anemic limbs 

Of the smoldering unborn 

Gripping tight to the images of my undoing

And through bullet holes in their soft, unforming teeth

They all sing out about the great flood

That’s never to come.

We’re forever burning now 

In the anguish 

Of this feeble sleep and smothering night. 

Transporting to the chaotic epicenter

In the nightmare world’s great amphitheater 

Molded in malodours quicksilver

And children’s amputated brainstems 

I watch the beggar happily shame himself.

They’ve all been starving him,

His fat hanging off his bones in sheets

Like pooling wet cement

A distorted architecture of needles 

And pulsating pneumatic tubes 

Embedded and arching out of the wounded,

Gored trenches of his back. 

Awaiting their instructions

Growing rigid with deathly anticipation 

At the cheers of the perpetually ravenous crowd

In the middle of it all,

My eyes are bisected open 

Covered in tape and interlocking pins

Leaving me unable to be saved 

From being force-fed these shivering dreams of depravity 

With flashbulbs and bouts of ether,

It all begins again. 

Once more I remember, 

There’s nothing but this carnival of suffering 

And there’s never anything to do 

But to lie here and await the worst 

Watch the beggar stumble through my memories

And gladly lacerate himself 

On the surging slipstream of pain. 

Now the scenery is starting to glitch 

Electricity attempting to escape 

The crowd growing in fanaticism 

And decreasing in their humanity

Basking in fantasies of unfathomable cruelties

I smell the synthesizer smoke

Oscillating through pacing eyesockets 

Of the festering onlookers

Upholders of torment and ultraviolence 

Pockets in their internal organs

Holding in their hissing, aching anticipation

Ready to cannibalize their shrieking features.

Acetone pumping through their lungs 

Serenity in watching the starved participant of torture

As he willingly shaves off his kneecaps

And looks directly to me to feed

I’d do anything to turn my mind off. 

Endlessly, my fright and disgust crystalized

They’re all foaming at the mouth now

With primordial screaming sludge

As the straight razor gleams and blinds 

In the magnitude of yellowed, collapsing stage lights

Those around succumb to all that lies dormant

Unsaid and shameful

Penetrating into a carnivorous crawling chaos

Guttural moans seeping into the decomposing sun

Pins pierce through my eyelids 

At my attempt to protect myself 

A noxious, malformed stranger behind me decays on my shoulder 

And whispers in groans

“What are you going to do?”

With a roar and a collective prayer

The razor swings down

Severing the starved beggar’s lips

From his shamefully grinning face

A cacophony of pleasure 

From those who can’t let go of atrocities 

Needles in the loosened flesh 

Pump away wildly 

As the gored participant struggles on his maimed hands and knees

Grand eruptions of blood out of his back

Bathing the maddening, violently copulating crowd

Unintelligible mumbles of pain spill out

Of his lipless mouth 

The beggar couldn’t be happier 

His lower jaw hacked away sloppily 

All sounds encase my constrained head

Bleeding into waking reality 

Forging a hypnotic fog of waking grief and guilt.

Behind me, a couple feast on each other’s stained eyeballs

And spit their filth into the dark corona of what used to be the moon

Everything’s a void

Nothing can escape this menagerie of meaningless

Someone needs to cultivate what’s left of my brain

From the human viscous stained soil

Where I shatter my skull open on somnambulist pain.

Cradled by dirt 

And trapped in a cage of mangled batwings

I’m shuddering till my teeth chip

And fall out

At the thought of any of this continuing 

I can’t take it. 

I’m coated and stained forever 

In the shame of my baneful, feverish dreams

It’ll never end. 

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