I finger the delicate bind of the rope,
The frays lace between my fingertips,
they teach me how to laugh;
I feel the spiral of its bind,
up, up and on forever, it seems,
the ivy wall of the rope,
reaches up as it teaches me how to climb.
My hands explore their tissue paper skin,
feel the crinkle bound to their skin,
and I know it all.
I feel the rope wound around my nerve,
and I feel it slip,
and I tug,
and I don’t know why.
But, I tug at the rope wound around,
and around my nerve,
willing it to unravel and-
and all of a sudden, I know nothing anymore.
The nerve stands alone, bleeding,
the canopy of midnight encasing its agenda
my own nerve, as it wants to watch me bleed.
how it is so true.
Nerve- no not brave,
I am nervous and I tug,
grip, grapple, will,
want, beg, plead for the rope to come undone
I want the rope to fall away
for a minute i want the wind to pick it up
i want the damage to be done and for the frays
to spin themselves into nothing
the game of tug of war only has one player and its me
i can’t watch as the hurricane winds around
me and my endless skin goes on
as my fingers move to route march its corners
finding all of the hideouts i didn’t want to find
the ground between my rope,
oh and there is so much.
i want to find nothing, feel nothing, see nothing,
be nothing, i want to fall away into nothing
as the midnight rain washes me into the ocean
and out into orbit
i need to be away
i don’t need to be fixed
the rope doesn’t need to be mended,
tug of war was never meant to be played in teams
the frays aren’t there to be tied back together
i need to be sewn, glued, designed
and ordered to stay, sit, stay stuck
i need my arms restrained and my nerve a fountain of sticky
sweet, sweet glue.
I need never to reach for my endless skin and the suffocating rope
throw me in a barren land where no rain falls
and if no rain falls i can never dream to be a hurricane
destroying nothing but myself.