Notebook Mantra Poem by Melissa Joy Chesky

I feel the wrath
between the ripped crevices.
The malice goes deeper than
what’s on its skin.
Its depth unmeasured,
and the mantra is always
screaming over any other
harmonious silence.
Wave after wave of
cynical feelings bind me
to the mantra.
It grows off of any memories,
and the pain spreads like icy fire.
I don’t know how to cease
the voice,
the mantra.
So loud, blood wrenching;
the mantra lacerating the insides
of my skull.
Dying to be heard.
To make it stop,
the only way;
Dig, scratch, rip
into the paper.
It felt so rewarding,
and with the pressure of the pen
on paper,
I thought it would start to
slip vermillion through the ripped abrasions.
And I couldn’t help but do it
again,
three times,
again, again, again.
Rip, dig, scrape, scratch,
cut, slice
into the paper.
After the persistence,
the mantra dug deep,
deeper in some places:
“Hate” showed through many
pages afterwards.
Then, the realization:
an engraved mantra is no different
than drugged masochism.