A Poem by Erin

We’re coming up on the 3-year anniversary of Erin’s death. Tomorrow would have been our 9-year wedding anniversary and a week ago on the 16th would have been our 15-year dating anniversary. Needless to say, I’ve been thinking about her even more than usual the last couple weeks. I’ve wanted to write something about her for the site, but my words have just been failing me. It really just seems so daunting, to capture everything I want to say. So, instead of posting some of my own writing (which I’ll continue to work on), I thought I would post something that Erin wrote. It’s fairly heavy and dark, about her mother’s struggles with mental health, drugs, and abusive relationships and the effect of those on Erin. I remember reading it for the first time a while ago and it effected me very strongly. It still does when I read it, now. She was so good and getting emotions out in words and to me, this is a great example.

The poem is simply title “M.D”, the meaning of which I can only guess. “Mommy Dearest” seems likely to me.

You can find a scan of her actual writing here: https://memoryoferin.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/Erin_Poem_02.pdf

Or you can read my transposition below:

M.D.

Swallow your spit
Taste some blood – really taste it!
You let him be everything
Now you’ve become nothing
No feeling below the gashes
Skin peppered with ashes.
Hallucinating perfect beauty
There is none – little one.
Voices speaking from all sides
Steel strong rules she never abides – never.
Pretty noises coaxing you toward the red lights.
Weapon in hand so shaky
Everything spinning.
Slowly whirling – your body
High pitched resonations of some sort
Attention still never caught
Your creations bleed like bloated, boiling bubbles
Step out of yourself yet STILL
you can’t see!
Everything looking dead – limply lifeless
You are! Only you!
Upon you a weight
Heavy like his fists fall on your decrepit body
His slave, servant, punching bag
Whirring, whirring, whirring.
Where’s that shit coming from?
Guardian demon
Spinning you fall, fallen, fell.
Breathing harshly, raspy, gurgling.
No one can hear your thoughts.
No one would listen.
Your worth measured in possessions?
Nothing again!
Stomach acid raining hell.
Colors of many blending to crimson.
Your life just lost.
See flashing shadows.
Nothing estimated – only underestimated.
Your body rotting
You want it, you want it!
The cold catches fire.
Snake like bubbles.
Your insides ooze from you.
Not even you would dare touch it.
Familiar scents bring you back.
Your wretchedness brings you back.
You‘re falling back in your sick mind.
No! This is
your fault!
You stayed there!
You made me stay there!
The place where everything & everyone haunts you!
Desolate, ravenous, impure.
Why pray?
The evil replica will be back.
Contemplate it in a dare.
Come on! I dare you!
Bring back your insanity.
Spelling your name in numbers.
Drawing linking chains.
Slender skin.
Your rips dangle on a scabby thread.
Peel it away.
See the bugs your addiction created.
Believe they’re really burrowing deeper in your skin.
Words of whatever blur into a low, harmonic, hypnotic hiss.
An incantation? A curse?
Sure, why not?
Deny this lie if you please.
Run your fingers through the memories.
Become your own victim – Again!
You could have stopped it.
You knew
his fists were really claws.
You didn’t want to be alone.
Well fuckin’ look!
Where are you now?
You lie in the darkness.
On the grass near the intersection, cross section, c-section.
Flickering halogen street lights.
Cars laugh at you – turn toward you – turn on you.
You victimized yourself to pass the time.
Excuseless.
Revenge – your weakness restricts.
Powerless
Dulled melodies assist your psychosis.
No one to pick you up.
Hand severed.
Can’t even push yourself up.
Lick your body like a cat.
You fight the permanent mirror.
It makes you stare at yourself – into yourself.
See the sounds.
Excrete pus from pores.
Harsh to soft.
Trip the trigger
No more “we”
Demonic image
Edges acute then obtuse
Your mind pressures changing.
It aches to you – feels good to me.
Your rotting flesh no longer on you.
Hanging, tacked, stapled up like art.
A wary sign to stay away.
You still can’t understand the obvious.
Blind to beauty.
Bloated boils on your body.
Scars of the old
False hope – there’s no healing where we are!
Virtually no skin.
Muscle tissue peaking at a glance.
Direct stares offer more delusion.
Walls fall down.
Force an airy scream
Oversized fingers push you over.
Acrid smells – it’s you – yes it is.
Heaven and hell.
Hell is large so earth is part.
Smoke your skin color spotted.
Artificial being – rather living
Remember all you hated.
Robotic, rhythmic, hypnotic movements
Generated from your unleashed fears.
The clown, though unreal, eats you.
Pull you out of body.
You just want to run.
No legs.
You beg to be taken away.
You’re not going anywhere!
Think you’re some angel.
Ha… covered in soot of sins.
Cold, satisfying metal
Run your fingers over the grooves
You start swaying – naked
Balancing on tips of toes, people watch.
A demonic smile overcomes your face.
Scares the shadows.
Oh, you think you’re done with it now?
Your bloody hair & teeth.
Pick your weapon
Aim… shoot…
Your body sways to the ground.
No one cares.
So fertilizer, you are now.
You wake up.
White all around.
Relief until padded walls are seen.
Sudden panic.
You throw yourself at them.
Your creation watched this.
Watched you go insane.
It spans a lifetime.
A vow never to follow
A vow to disappear.
Find a mate and disappear.
The space between sleeping and waking is heaven.
You lived in it 18 hours a day.
Your skin always discolored.
You step in your mess.
You’re just glad you can feel anything at all.
You can’t move now.
You’re chained in place.
He comes.
Feeds the maggots that grew from you
Replenish, nutrition, something.
Your agenda…
Die again.
This is
your fault!
Unlocked, unchained for a shower.
Inane, inanimate objects creak.
Water – dark yellow.
Clean the wounds.
You wince – drip blood from your eyes.
Look in the mirror
Ribs out of place – out of sorts.
Bruises and cuts.
People try to escape
From the walls of your room.
Your wings clipped.
You never did learn to fly anyway.
More fears.
Fathom a crutch.
Smell sickly like rot.
Clown music.
Your background music.
Celebrate a wound healed.
Life is submission to you.
No skin upon your face.
Scratch marks on your skull.
Your eyes forever bloodshot.
Someone stands by.
Someone watches
Someone thinks
Someone learns.
I still didn’t know it was wrong.
Why didn’t you tell me?
So your creation is a victim.
Your victim.
His victim.
She leaves.