Silently Screaming

Rage of Hope (People with No Face)

Must make myself
Must make myself
Must make myself
Scars across my face
Broken glass for teeth
Maggots crawl through my eyes
Not enough to despise (death’s embrace)

Must make myself something
Must make myself into something
Must make myself feel
Embalming fluid in my veins
Sinister smile across my face
Broken nails in each vertebrae
Not enough (death’s embrace)

Must make myself
Must make myself
Must make myself
Into a whore
Into more
Embrace deception
Become the lie
Never enough
Never whole
Always more

Death holding me down
The ground so wet
The world such a threat
Bleeding conscience
Pumping embers into my heart
Why does it have to hurt
Why does it have to matter so much
Death dances all around me
Death’s embrace closest thing to love

The ground trembles for fear of life
The world in a silent spin
Bleeding to live
No one cared enough to listen to me
No one cared why should they
Becoming something better than this
What it is they want me to be

Why does it have to hurt
Why does it have to matter so much

Death is nothing more than a change
Death’s embrace, Death’s last whisper
Silently screaming
All I am worth 
My beauty, my body, who I am on the outside
A life made up of uselessness
Finding purpose in nothing
Am I better now
Am I beautiful now
Am I whole now
That I know where I belong


I don’t normally explain my poems… I feel it is up to the reader to decide what the words means… like a fucked up version of reading tea leaves… this one is a little different… This one I did that for myself… I found this poem in my notes… originally it was about me… selfish as I am… but as I was reading it… it reminded me of someone else… the whole thing took on a different meaning for me… you may have noticed the shift about midway through the poem… 

This poem reminded me of a woman I used to work with years and years ago… We were friends then… it was a weird time… I was too self-absorbed in my own bullshit to really process what it was that she was telling me… the short and private version of this story is that she was raped… But that wasn’t what stuck with me… it was her lack of caring about what had happened to her… I asked her if she reported it… and all she projected was this attitude that it didn’t matter… this kind of thing happens all the time… for the record it does and it shouldn’t… she was trying to be a model… was a model… she isn’t the type of person I normally hang out with… “someone who cares only about their looks”… like I said it was a weird time… 

I was young and I was stupid… I didn’t see beyond her looks… I judged her just like the rest of the world… thought she was full of emptiness… but really she was full of pain… same as me… we hung out a few times… but I couldn’t stand the fact that she would agree with everything I said… a trait I contributed to stupidity… a coping mechanism… I didn’t understand at the time… a fear that she didn’t have to convey around me… I wasn’t interested in hurting her… but when anyone can be the enemy… when anyone could hurt you… much easier to go along… to the point that you don’t even exist… we lost touch when I got a new job… part-time friends… her story still stuck with me…


13 thoughts on “Silently Screaming”

    1. Sadly, I should have known that then… young and stupid is all I can say… most of the time who we are is never on the surface… unless you have a face tattoo… then you are really… really into whatever that might be… jokes aside… it was very sad… and I wish that I had handled everything very differently… but yes… lesson learned…


    1. I think draft one I was going for that… it was about me being a monster… wanting to be a better person… but it wasn’t good… so I buried it… I found it the other day… and as I read it… it reminded me of her… (That sounds awful out loud)… I rewrote the back half… well a lot of it… So it took another shape as it took on actual meaning… and became something… that meant more than me…

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Your line, “pumping embers” really stuck. Visceral, internal view of what this person’s heart might have felt. You can imagine this dark ember slurry, like what one gets after one puts out a campfire with water, stirs it around to make sure it’s done, and is left with this ash soup. Imagined that, pumping through the person’s heart and veins.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. It’s so true that we never really know another person. Humans are so complex, creating ways to protect ourselves. I wish this long-ago friend could read your poem. (PS, found you via Little Fears.🙂)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I wish many things had turned out different in our friendship… but it would be nice if she could read it… maybe one day she will… never know what tomorrow brings…

      Fears is pretty awesome… we are working on a secret project with a friend of ours… pretty excited… should be out some time soon… so be on the look out… Thank you for stopping by…

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I am glad you added in the context, Layney bear. And you are right, it does hapoen all the time and women do just think that’s how it is. Things are changing, but not fast enough.
    Thus was beautifully painful, Laynes. I love it. Big hugs.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s