Perhaps to exist
is to wonder,
and to wonder—
exist.
I stretched my brain
and snapped it in two...
A prominent emptiness lingered underneath.
Perhaps to exist
is to feel,
and to feel—
exist.
I grasped my heart
and wrung it through my fingers...
Its slimy residue evaporated in the wind.
I stepped nakedly
out from the shower of distilled thought
and graciously handed myself a towel.
I wrote my wonderings
onto murdered flesh,
read them aloud,
and swallowed them whole.
Satisfaction gurgled in my gut
as I digested salty moments
of unbearability.
And an ogre named Reason
sank into the depths of my closet
to remain locked away until further notice—
or until the end of time.
Author notes
Have you ever had to eat a part of who you are in order to get away from it?
No?
Then you wouldn't understand.
This poem was an entry in the contest: allpoetry.com/Contest/933636
Written December 9th, 2004
In a list
A contest entry
- A Contest With Real Prizes By Horus8 by horus8.
666 points, ended December 21, 2004, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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I can guarantee you that "unbearability" is definitely a word. This is an intriguing write (yes I ues that word too much), and it seems to channel a lot of very odd notions. All in all, however, it's a fine poem.
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Real good...
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awesome
I loved it. My favorite part was "I stepped nakedly
out from the shower of distilled thought
and graciously handed myself a towel." that stanza is awesome. Wonderfully done.
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That does make some semblance of sense
Thanks much for explaining it to me 
Cheers,
~Tal~ -
You are very correct in pointing this out (about unbearability)... as it is very much not a word. I picked it out of thin air and ran with it. °slaps knuckles° And the rest of it's not as deep as one might be intimidated into thinking (as much as I'd like not to think so). The first four stanzas are really just the catalyst (or "stupor", if you will) for the actions of the final four. How to sidestep unbearable emotions could have sufficed as the title but let's not go overboard. The rest is basically a frugal extravagance that's saying.... at first I was feeling vulnerable and fragile, then I put my feelings into poetry form on paper(murdered flesh is just my way of touching on the fact that we have to kill a tree first before using it in such a way), then I re-took those feelings into me and shoved them deep down into the pit of me so I wouldn't have to deal with them anymore, and whenever I felt guilty or like telling somebody else about my problems.... I was able to force the ogre of sensiblity quite firmly out of the picture because I had so victoriously sidestepped the stupor and regained control of myself (for better or for worse).
....see? not as technical or magical as I might have implied, but still not a total loss, eh? 
Edited on Dec 11, 10:56 p.m. because ''. -
I can honestly say that I understand on a subconscious level, but on every other level the meaning that is obviously behind this poem is completely lost to me. It's very well written though; nice use of language and I love the picture. And although I function under the impression that 'unbearability' is not in fact a word, I have seen enough poets invent words to suit their own purposes that I will call it poetic licence and allow you to disregard my pointing it out
Best of luck in the contest.
Cheers,
~Tal~ -
—The picture is from deviantart by a user named, "phyccion". The link is: www.deviantart.com/view/8796663/
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Where did that pic come from? Its absolutely... breath taking.. as well as the poem.
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another beauty
beautiful.
and just to say, for sake of saying, your authors comment was grand to me as well. -
Hmmm...well this was exceedingly interesting to read...filled with strong imagery, grace and a deeply impressive ending. I really enjoyed the feel of this, the dark philosophy behind the words...all in all, a definite improvement over quite a number of so-called 'poets' on this site. Very nicely done.
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I love you! This is simply amazing.
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