Blood Art

Strange look of pantomime beauty
In spring when dogs litter,
The headstrong butcher meanders
Close to the flesh, poised to filet—
With marbled layer removed, layers of
Unwantedness trimmed,
The tamed soul of the sculpture
Speaks to the artist, instructing the wayward knife.

11/96

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About ~Drew

I am a survivor of childhood torture. Each day, I put one foot in front of the other, moving forward. To do any less would spell my own destruction. My music/poetry/prose deal with the devastating effect of this kind of abuse on a human being: me. My experiences/thoughts/ideas/misconceptions are exposed here for all to see. Here. I am lain bare, naked, hidden only be the cloak of anonymity.
This entry was posted in depression, poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Blood Art

  1. seandmc says:

    Your poems are nice but I read your first post and it made me cry. I've been poking aroud on the internet trying to find blogs of people like me 17 year old adopted son. The first three years of his life was spent being an ash tray, punching bag his head was repeatedly held in the toilet until he went limp and he was locked in rooms by him self for days without food or water. All of this has been coming out now that he has been doing trauma therapy. We knew why he was removed from the house but had no idea what he had been through. His childhood has been removed from him, for the past last ten years he has just existed with us and his sibling brother. He showed no emotions, I never actually though of him as human, but now since he started his therapy he has attached like crazy. It is like I have a new son but he is going through so much crap right now, he is decompensating, disclosing his past, all of these terms I'm now just learning. Anyway, your blog touched me. Mine is Pinkshanty.blogspot.com, don't expect anything as eloquent as yours. Sean

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