wretched little thing
A poem by V. Walker
fuck! my skin melts menacingly leaving me mangled like my mother but I persevere for I have longed to shed this sardonic skin which has worringly clung to my cacophonus cries — fuck, finally — let me lighten from my lungs the shattered syllables I swallowed to keep precarious peace with people who extort my energy endlessly. now I'm a fucking failure fumbling frantically no, wait — gasping graciously for the goodness that I know this world has, why won't this world wrap me in it's goodness? why won't this world free me from this fucking fearscape?
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Phenomenal piece as always, V! I often say that curse words are the spice of language. Used correctly (like you did here) they can add flavor to writing. Overdo them (like with real seasonings) and you ruin the dish.
This was a wonderful example of using curse words to drive home the emotional impact. An excellent poem as always.
Really enjoyed this :)