Purge by Nicholas Osborne

purge

inside me thrives a wild need
stretching—twisting its shoulders

a malignant fetus, in utero
sired by seed from the
ravenous vacuum of deep space
a gifted thing with unending hunger

hot pangs that rake at my guts—
cigarette cherries gently teasing the
softest walls of my organs

they beg me to loosen and leave
to smoke me out, until all that
remains is the pleasant and echoing


empty


drained of yolk, but hollow-intact
like a blue-spotted robin’s egg—
a boon to the eye and fingertip but
at heart just a porous façade

its zygote, a decaying mucous drip
dangling low and gelatinous to
bring feast for the blue-bottles

I want to blow away with the wind
or fade away under blankets as I dream
or be elevated to heaven or dragged down
to hell—if we believe in the stories

maybe reincarnate as a cancer cell
and spend my hours dividing in two

it is imperative that I be sundered
quartered in the old way, where rough
men tie burning hemp knots around
the bones of my ankles and wrists
then slap all the simultaneous horses

gallop the dripping stumps of me down
the cobbled narrow streets, crowded
with niched-in shops and cafés

though be sure to kick and
ditch-roll the fifth quarter—
the one that dropped like a
wet bundle of pelts and
stayed where it lay

pound me as void and as nothing
enact that precise erasure
turn all of this inside out and shake
my frame until every cog rattles loose

feed my morsels to the
pigeons from a plastic bag
filled with stale breadcrumbs

saw at my medium-rare with steak knife and
fork—ingest my choice filet—wash it
down with a glass of big ballsy burgundy

stretch my tripe like an elastic band
from here to Xanadu and back again

scoop every scrap from this container and

let me be empty

We are very excited to have Nick Osborne contributing to SD.  You can find more of Nick’s excellent writings and poetry at his site:

https://thedirtylimerick.wordpress.com

Author: oldepunk

Writing about my views of the world in a stream of conscience style

32 thoughts on “Purge by Nicholas Osborne”

  1. I love the manner in which you express yourself. It reflects the darkest depths of obsession fixed on morbid thoughts of nonexistence. I relate so much to your feelings. The cerebral viscerality of your words is such a pleasure to consume. Your writing keeps me on my toes, reminding me of the fullest breadth of expressive merit contained within the English language. And that which lies within the individual capacity to convey one’s thoughts and feelings with such flawless execution. Thank you for overcoming the suffering you undoubtedly endure to bring such wonderful words to life. I feel I understand to some degree. Your pain speaks to that of my own.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. The feeling is mutual, Max. Your writing has a sort of tortured depth with which I personally identify. It’s tremendous. Thank you for writing.

      In my world, the light and the dark are both equally worthy of exploration and analysis. I don’t think we can truly know ourselves until we sweep out all the dusty nooks and see what ends up in the pile. And that’s what it’s about, isn’t it? It’s about understanding oneself.

      Liked by 2 people

    1. The goopy and viscous are pretty strong in this one, now that I read it again. We have a lot of liquids at play here—intentionally or otherwise. It was a bit of a dark venture to write, which stretches me emotionally. That usually prompts me to just “go with it” while I’m writing. I hope it turned out to be comprehensible.

      Thank you for your comment, and for finding meaning. I appreciate both!

      Liked by 2 people

      1. Jasper is fantastic, as is everyone else here. When I first stumbled onto this site, I felt at home. That’s… well, would be vastly understating it to say that’s unprecedented for me.

        Again, thank you for your words.

        Liked by 2 people

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