dregs from the subconscious (content warning)

[heslopian]

I

I wish I could have pressed my thumbs
against his pink nipples,
and pushed my knee inside his belly
until I wore it on the cap,
like moss on a stone or a bridal veil.

II

I wake inside my mother's flat
and her head is not a prop
I've placed atop the coffee table.
there is not a knife beneath my sheets
nor have I pissed all over her grave.
she's alive in the next room, in fact.
she's preparing me bacon.

III

I'm in a hotel lobby. My sister's gone.
I'll be blamed for this. The decor's nice,
though, and the lobby is perfectly round,
with blue and yellow spiral shapes.
All I remember now is the panic.
And that the drift from dream to morning
was a long and arduous one.

[billy]

I

I wish I could have pressed my thumbs
against his pink nipples,
and pushed my knee inside his belly
until I wore it on the cap,
like moss on a stone or a bridal veil.

right i just got it (kneecap)
short to the point and a little disturbing lmao. (seriously)
i'm confused as to whether you like him or not. i do love the last two lines.

II

I wake inside my mother's flat
and her head is not a prop
I've placed atop the coffee table.
there is not a knife beneath my sheets
nor have I pissed all over her grave.
she's alive in the next room, in fact.
she's preparing me bacon.

this one's much clearer the subdued vitriol is there but tempered with reality. this one really works for me. good rhythm, a touch of sub-conscious humour (in my read) it's like stepford moms but with hate.
good write.

III

I'm in a hotel lobby. My sister's gone.
I'll be blamed for this. The decor's nice,
though, and the lobby is perfectly round,
with blue and yellow spiral shapes.
All I remember now is the panic.
And that the drift from dream to morning
was a long and arduous one.

for me, this ones my favourite. i see the move from guilt or resignation to what do i care, and then the eyes open and for a split second you're unsure if sis has really gone. the heart takes a while to catch up with the head and get in touch with reality.

again, a good one.
as always thanks for the read.

[heslopian]

Thanks for the kind words, Billy The first segment was a daydream I had whilst waiting at a train station; near me were a group of lads my age on their bikes, and one of them (the one I wrote about) had his shirt off. The experience was kind of a throwback to when I was a sexually confused thir/fourteen year old, and intimacy and violence were mixed up in my head. Regarding other boys, I wasn't sure half the time whether I wanted to beat them up or sleep with them.

As for the second piece, before one of my first nervous breakdowns I was beset by a crippling hatred for my mum, and visiting her became pure hell. Glad you noticed the subdued vitriol, and thanks for complimenting the rhythm I like how you compare it to The Stepford Wives! I hadn't thought of that myself, but in retrospect I see it now.

The third one was an actual dream; I'm glad you noticed that mental journey from fear through resignation to reality. As a child I was terrified of getting lost, disappearing one day and never seeing my family again, and as I've grown I've transferred that fear somewhat onto my younger siblings, so that whenever they're put in my care I fuss and worry constantly.

[billy]

i am so glad this isn't the sewer jack

in many ways i think everyone goes through similar experiences.
maybe not the same but similar in that it's something they have to come to terms with.
sexuality, parents, self, puberty, all similar yet we all act, react very differently to them.
of course i'm just stereotyping, not everyone has parents they don't love etc.

for me a lot of your poems simply show the struggles, fears, and aspirations of self.