From the depth to the shallows

I do not want / to inspire pity so much as revulsion, I want people to despair / like I despaired when I couldn’t run, could barely walk, each stair / a newly unwrapped razor against muscle -> Actually we should say that Cassandra screams outside of language. The scream is to gash the fabric of normal life, to rend it into strange tatters. -> Right here this pain this cut this chill this bruise this pull this fracture this shiver this ache this strain this stinging this burn this scar this fever this tremble this split this blister this lump this weep this pounding this crack this scrape this chip this sprain this flutter this stitch this rasp this damage this flush this break this swell this catch this murmur this weakness this failure this tremor this clot right here I feel it. I speak it. -> Scream when your life is threatened. Form a noise so true that your tormentor recognizes it as a voice that lives in his own throat. -> Once, when I was in a glut of pain, / I said to a friend, / Just take an hour and imagine / this is happening to you. / She looked straight ahead / and said, I don’t want to.

Maria Gray, “[Years of pelvic floor therapy]” Selby Wynn Schwartz, After Sappho Amy Meissner, “The Acquisition of Language” Jenny Holzer, “Inflammatory Essays,” [no title] / “Shriek when the pain hits...” Ellen Bass, “Experiment in Empathy”