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Literature Text
To my ECT nurse:
The quick pulse
kicks through shocking,
cold, sticky gel
that later I'll comb
through hair that stands
on end from the jolts
of spreading Sux, of seizure,
of brutally brief torpor --
afterward, recumbent, fighting
recognition: the acerbic pill
on my potsherd tongue: I swill
with your stingy paper sip
my exposed disgrace.
The quick pulse
kicks through shocking,
cold, sticky gel
that later I'll comb
through hair that stands
on end from the jolts
of spreading Sux, of seizure,
of brutally brief torpor --
afterward, recumbent, fighting
recognition: the acerbic pill
on my potsherd tongue: I swill
with your stingy paper sip
my exposed disgrace.
Literature
Forgotten.
We used to travel together, you see. And I remember even the most useless things.
Remember that time, when it was hot, so hot, that we brought ice creams at the local milk bar.
They melted in our fingers.
I remember you thought the guy behind the counter was gorgeous. You wanted to give him your number but you chickened out. I teased you the whole day.
I guess that's what friends do?
I wanted to be... so much more than friends with you. I loved you.
I remember you made sexual jokes about how sticky your hands were after the ice creams. "You're disgusting." I laughed.
We had to walk ten minutes to find a tap to wash our hands.
We used t
Literature
Never Forgotten
You are pushing...
Trying to erase...
But you refuse to wipe away those words that rest gentle on the lines.
You can't do it.
They are written in pen.
You won't rip the well designed paper either.
You will have to paint over those honest words.
You will always know that underneath those vibrant colours lies a hidden script.
A secret code that whispers in your sleep.
You have become a spy.
Undercover, in your own world.
What are you searching for?
Is it your treasure which you have tucked away?
Hopefully you will find that which you have intentionally lost,
And at its appearance,
You will forget the tears you shed,
And once again remember
Literature
Slipping
My words are greasy
They slide away
My heart wants to but lacks the will to play
Evenings on fast forward
Until work the next day
My dreams and goals
Don’t lift but weigh
I am consumed
But I have nothing to say
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Electroconvulsive Therapy from the point of view of one with intractable, crippling depression. "Sux" is an abbreviation for the muscle relaxant used in ECT to control the seizure induced so that side effects such as broken or dislocated bones do not occur. Questions for critique:
1) Does the title make any sense at all?
2) Is the ending too much of a surprise, or does the bitter, angry feeling show through the rest of the poem?
3) Would this poem make sense to someone who had not experienced/researched ECT? I don't mean that they would get every nuance, but would it be readable?
1) Does the title make any sense at all?
2) Is the ending too much of a surprise, or does the bitter, angry feeling show through the rest of the poem?
3) Would this poem make sense to someone who had not experienced/researched ECT? I don't mean that they would get every nuance, but would it be readable?
© 2014 - 2024 fernknits
Comments5
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this does make sense and I understand that you have a lot to deal with in your life.