"It sees me having a seizure on the fuzzy shag rug
that didn't exist yesterday. It sees me being pitched
across the room, strange words flinging out my mouth
into another uncertain land of the unremembered."
I have two new creepy poems inside the CUL-DE-SAC OF BLOOD...
HERE - https://www.culdesacofblood.com/juliet-cook***
Also, under my two poems, you can click on "Learn more about these poems" and read some of my thoughts on some of my poems.
For example...
"Women bleed and bleed until the menstrual blood stops, their bodies age, and they speed race closer to death. If you didn't get chased to death and chainsawed or stabbed or bludgeoned or otherwise eviscerated when you were younger, then it won't be long before your body starts eviscerating itself. Then you will die. Then you will only exist in a few other people's memories, perspectives, and (mis)interpretations.
Perhaps my poetry exaggerates these matters, but it's true that the real me not existing anymore is terrifying to me.
I hope that parts of me might still exist in my poetry, even if it tends towards the negative."
***
Although sometimes I feel like even my blood is invisible to others...
