poetry collection p.iii

Technical finale? I had a title for this that was better but I can’t come up with anything better than that.

I’m tired of dead dogs

tw: animal death, gore

Ripping open my skull and feeding it to dogs. They snap frontal to get to my amygdala and feast. Tearing open my liver to feed to hawks and unspooling my veins like spiderweb to feed the mice.

I’m coughing up blood.
I’m tired of running.

I’m being torn apart by dogs and it’s painful but I’m surviving as they tear the flesh from my shoulders. The blood is leaking through my clothes, and I’m sorry. What the hell, I’m sorry.

My body’s giving out so by God, and it’s going to heaven (I think,) so with my last breath, to the dogs that turn up dead under houses, that run underneath and get left on the road, I’m sorry neither of us can do more for heaven on Earth or hell underground and it’s gonna kill us.

They seem proud, but I know they’ll starve
tomorrow.
It seems an unfair fate.

She Won’t

crying on her doorstep, her family’s screaming behind a door that’s not thick enough but somehow always thicker than its supposed to be. I give her my coat, it’s no more warming than me

because I know I can’t undo this. I can’t storm inside and make them accept reality accept this.

so we sit on her doorstep, and she cries and weeps and I can’t do anything but hope my coat holds her better than I can

maybe I’m too afraid to say anything. she’s run her throat too dry to speak. There’s a dark feeling in my chest, asking if I’ll lose her, I hope I won’t when she’s my world, but something tells me that’s not my choice. I don’t know anymore.

It’s two am.
Where the hell am I.

Author: Chanel Hand

It's funny to think about I'm technically a published writer. It'd be funnier if I added this before senior year, but it's too late to change that.

4 thoughts on “poetry collection p.iii”

  1. I think the use of crossing out letters and words really implies the implication of pain.

  2. I love the tone in “She Won’t” SO MUCH, it sounds panicked and anxious to me like a nervous heartbeat. Also, I don’t know why but “It’s two am. Where the hell am I,” gives me chills.

  3. I admire it when people are able to describe things particularly gory in a way that is still allows it to be appreciated and when it doesn’t feel like it’s for shock factor. This is great.

  4. I admire it when people are able to describe things particularly gory in a way that is still allows it to be appreciated and when it doesn’t feel like it’s for shock factor. This is great.
    and the “So we sit on her doorstep” really hit me in my chest and I don’t know why.

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