Finding You

Screams of poison terror
Rip my heart asunder
I’m groping around in the darkness
But I can’t find you

The insidious drops of water
Falling all about me
Sound to me of tears
Scorching down your face

Tearing and scrambling
I try to get to you
Hard stone and cold truth stop me
They won’t let me find you

I yell and fight
Pound on the wall
Skin shreds from my hands
The scent of copper waifs up

Over and over I bellow
The sweet syllables
That form your name
I fight to find you

Suddenly they bubble up
All the questions begging
What did we do?
I shout to no one

Who are you to judge?
Why is it wrong to love?
It doesn’t concern you!
I must find you

My fingers find metal
The door to you
My cry of ecstasy
Soon turns to horror

Sightless green orbs
A sea made of your life
I fall to my knees
Why did I have to find you?

Crawling over shards of pain
I pull you into my embrace
While my heart drowns in tears
I shed not one

Why us?
I whisper
Because we are the same?
Because I found you?

They enter
Death comes too
I close both of our eyes
I will find you in the next life

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*Long, horrific whine of complete and total agony in regards to the extreme melodrama in this poem* Okay so… *drops head on desk and cries* Oh God Baby Michelle, why did you even write this!?!?!? COULD YOU PLEASE STOP DOING THIS TO ME!?!?! WHY DID I EVEN KEEP THIS SHIT!? *sobs inconsolably* THE FUCK MAN THIS IS HORRIBLE!

No seriously I felt some bile come up when I was reading this to myself due to sheer embarrassment at how bad this is.

In case someone didn’t catch the VERY SUBTLE MOMENT IN THE SECOND TO LAST STANZA the protagonist of this poem is in a same-sex relationship for which ze is being ultimately punished with death. I am not saying that is the over-dramatic part of this poem, more like the extreme hyperbole and purple prose. If this was a well-thought out poem about a well-researched historical moment of LGBTQIA-GNC discrimination with controlled adjective use and poignant action, it would be a good poem. This is melodrama at it’s HEIGHT.

And then in the fourth stanza I used “waifs” instead of “wafts” I don’t feel like I am ever allowed to judge people’s misspellings and gaffs ever again. BABY MICHELLE WHY DO YOU HAVE TO UNDERMINE EVERYTHING!?!?! I NO LONGER FEEL LIKE I CAN BE A SUPERIOR ASSHOLE ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE’S WRITING! YOU KILL EVERYTHING!

Wow, this is just painful to keep reading and re-reading. Especially because it reminds me of this short story I wrote about a woman being held captive in a prison cell/”pit” where she decides that the safest course of action to stop her from spilling any secrets is to bash her own brains out on a rock jutting out of the wall. Damn. I think I might have to retire everything right now and never write again, but isn’t that melodramatic? Fuck. Does this mean I haven’t learned anything and am still the same little drama queen running around word vomiting all over the place and making people cringe? I don’t think I want to pursue this train of thought.

I think a more succinct version of this poem would be:

They have killed us for religion,
For science, and medicine.
What reason will they
Use this time?

Now that’s just depressing, maybe a little dramatic, but still something that has been keeping me up at night with the new administration looming. Are there things I shouldn’t talk about anymore? Rallys that I should not attend, groups I should abandon. Am I on a list already? If I think about it too much I could drive myself insane.

So on that note, I will see you all next week after I have gone to the Women’s March on Washington!!!