Beautiful Hell

Inspired by the wonderful Nicholas Osborne, I have taken the plunge into spoken word poetry.  The sound recording for this poem can be found below.  I hope you enjoy.

I am a woman

Who often lives in her head

Trying to ignore that I have a body

Detaching from the swirling storm of my feelings

Pretending not to see the intersection

Of thought, of feeling

Of blood, of bone

Of salty tears

Running down my warm, smooth skin


It is this intersection that becomes my beautiful hell

Where I am choked by the intensity of my emotions

Where I am haunted by all my ghosts

Where I am hot and cold

Thoughts buzzing

Skin shockingly alive, feeling the weight of each drop of

Salty water on my cheekbones

As if it were the size of a big, blue marble


It is here in this beautiful hell

Where I cannot retreat

Into the safe rooms in my mind

Or float removed on the ceiling

Above my body

Mentally writing grocery lists, planning my errands

My body now an empty shell on a bed

It feels a tragedy how few lovers ever even

Noticed my absence


It is in my beautiful hell

Where the music swirls through my blood

Travels down my neurons, electric

Where my fingertips, my limbs instinctively sway with the beat

Where my heart aches around the sharpened dagger

That has pierced the walls of my chest

It must remain there or risk hemorrhage

I am wholly alone

I am connected to everything

I am barely breathing

I am exquisitely and painfully alive

I feel every thing

And I don’t know whether to join the song of the cosmos

Or crumble crushed by the weight of it all

Broken, bleeding to the ground

Categories: Poetry

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