notes in my notebook

W̶ 

1. Write a 14-line poem that starts with a question. MEANING: 

Am I really that much of a mystery? 

B̶e̶n̶e̶a̶t̶h̶my skin, slithering creatures c̶r̶a̶w̶l̶squirm 

I don’t know if slithering creatures squirm beneath my skin 

● i̶t̶c̶h̶i̶n̶g̶(?) 

● b̶l̶e̶e̶d̶i̶n̶g̶ 

● numbness 

● baldness 

● birth g̶i̶v̶i̶n̶g̶̶b̶i̶r̶t̶h̶ 

children 

no, not children yet. 

patriarchy 

● knuckles “man” knuckles 

● pink 

● mammograms 

● blood clots 

● metaphor for avoidance, another metaphor for anxiousness 

● rags 

● bandage 

● rags 

I don’t know when t̶h̶e̶I crawled out from my grave with b̶y̶my guts s̶p̶i̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶bleeding out upon the soft walking f̶r̶o̶m̶̶t̶h̶e̶cemetary grass in the l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶brought l̶u̶m̶i̶n̶o̶u̶s̶̶m̶o̶o̶n̶l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶light birthed by the moon of Earth from on a one on one a one dreadful night, 

m̶y̶̶m to feast on the human species and contaminate them. 

I don’t know why I’m so spontaneous 

I can barely read what I said for this 

the tag begins to make us itch, or it should, perhaps 

women.

bother us, we question it 

we SHOULD question it.