You are always looking at me
and I am always looking at you.
Ah, you’re too meek—
beautiful, unspoiled:
thus I’m so sad, I suffer—
and so happy, it hurts.
I want to hurt you
and destroy myself
What you would think
if you knew how I felt.
Would you simply smile,
not saying a word?
Even curses from your mouth
would be as beautiful as pearls.
I place my left hand on your
face as though we were to kiss.
Then I suddenly shove my thumb
deep into your eyesocket.
Abruptly, decisively,
like drilling a hole.
And what would it feel like?
Like jelly?
Trembling with ecstasy, I obscenely
mix it around and around: I must
taste the warmth of your blood.
How would you scream?
Would you shriek “It hurts!
It hurts!” as cinnabar-red tears
stream from your crushed eye?
You can’t know the maddening
hunger I’ve felt in the midst of
our kisses, so many of them
I’ve lost count.
As though drinking in your cries,
I bring my hopes to fruition:
biting your tongue, shredding it,
biting at your lips as if tastingyour lipstick.Oh, what euphoric heights I would
reach, having my desires fulfilled
like a greedy, gluttonous cur.
I longed, too, for your cherry-tinted
cheeks, tasty enough to bewitch my
tongue.
I would surely be healed,
and would cry like a child.
And how is your tender ear?
It brushes against my cheek;
I want it to creep up to my lipsso
Ican sink my teeth into its flesh.
Your left ear, always hearing words
whispered sweet as pie—
I want it to hear my true feelings.
I never lied, no…
but I did have my secrets.
Ah, but what must you think of me?
Do you hate me? Are you afraid?
As though inviting you to the agony
at the play’s end; if you wish, you
could destroy me— I wouldn’t care.
As you wish, you may destroy me
— I wouldn’t care.
I’ve been working on it in my spare time for a couple of days now, and I can’t seem to find the structure. The poem can be interpreted in different ways (well, most poems are that way). At first glance, it’s just a very disturbed man acting out a fantasy on a woman with whom he has an intimate relationship. However, I had a moment of epiphany: I thought that this could be a woman with dissociative personality disorder, her mind tortured with a great deal of agonizing (not to mention macabre) self-destruction. I tried enumerating the ears, the eyes, the lips and mentions of the mouth, how the left thumb is the first finger…I wondered why it was the left eye that is mentioned, as well as the left ear. Then I started thinking about more abstract ideas: what has eyes, lips, and a tongue? A fruit? A piece of furniture? I’m going to go nuts trying to figure this one out, and I’m not going to go on a message board to talk it out or anything. When I figure it out, it’ll be all me. But what the hell? How do I squeeze four numbers out of this damned poem? It’s going to give me nightmares…
Please no comments on the solution. I will get very damned angry.
P.S. I decided to play the Silent Hill series, starting with the third installment.
