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Below is the poem entitled Tourette which was written by poet Patrick Parks. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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I am a monster
A tormented work of God’s hand
I will roll over you
Like a storm
Because that I am

My energy will attract you like a swarm of bees in spring
Into your lover’s bed
Where I will remove tranquility
From you mind
Before you reject me

I am a Tesla 
My fingers set to spark
They will suck the life out of your longing
You will desire to burn again in my hell

But you will remove me
And keep me at bay
For I am too strong in field
To leave close to your heart
Yet I will possess you

Not because I own you
Only will I own your desire
To wrap around my tongue again
And from inside your womb
You will grow a hand longing to pull me into your core

Yet I will unwillingly shake your bed 
While you try to sleep
Because I cannot stop
Even when I rest
A storm I am

Cursed am I
With a double vortex of pain
That rips at my muscles
And makes them twitch
When I want them to relax

There is lightening inside of me
That longs to be kissed into a deeper slumber
Just once, so that I can rest in bliss at your side
Will you do that for me, just once?
Or throw me away before the first dawn, as is my fate

My tormented soul
Wants the electrocutioner’s pulse
To leave me alone
And let my limbs recline
For just one night

But instead I must sleep awake
So I do not unleash
Another crushing wave
Against your brain
As my twitching arms attack you despite my love

For while a storm may intrigue you to watch
You will not ride long in the funnel of this tornado
I will become your toy
And discarded after a few shocks of my constant sparking
Have burned your precious fingertips into charcoal

My place will become as your sworn servant
When you require another grinding
And remember the reason your millstones have worn thin
Desiring another load
To render into stardust

And while I just wish to rest my weary head
Upon your swollen breasts of honey
While you sleep against me in pleasure’s afterglow
The storm that never sleeps will jar you awake
And your pointed finger will show me out the dog’s door

Creep that I am
Requires his mask to be kissed away, but it will not yield
No one can endure
A lasting embrace
Because I will bump your arms away in the night

You should be warned
As upon notice be you now informed
My tic ticking heart
Will demand its daily toll
Sending me to sleep alone

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  1. Date: 4/26/2011 11:56:00 AM
    Wow...this is so cool! Jimmy

  1. Date: 4/25/2011 10:10:00 AM
    Over the years I have climbed over mountains of self hatred and suffer much less [now] than this account portrays. This poem captures the dysmorphophobic amplification of how it feels, more than how any lover has fully handed to me, in their discretion. Yet it is painful to watch their suffering at my helpless hands, and that still yanks at my heart, even though I have learned I have no guilt in it. I wrote it to try transcending my residual angst. Thanks Leo and Carol!

  1. Date: 4/25/2011 9:55:00 AM
    A deeply moving, graphic, and mainly accurate account of the hell of Tourette' friend suffers from this affliction and I feel totally helpless...let us hope that modern medical technology will discover some way to handle this. A very good poem.

  1. Date: 4/25/2011 6:25:00 AM
    A warm welcome to PoetrySoup I offer to you Patrick. I wish for you the best in your writing endeavors whatever they may be. May you find inspiration by reading some of the poetry written here by other poets. Read and comment on their's and they will return in kind. May the sun shine on you that you might find great joy in your life. Love and blessing always, Carol