Flayed, alive.

[JamesG]

With a surgeon’s bluff precision
you cut me with your scalpel,
parting my dermis, as
Moses parts the sea,
revealing the glistening,
hidden creatures,
that flap forlornly,
on the newly naked floor.

We lay upon your wood bound
bed, a gurney, moulded to your needs.
Beneath, an ancient gore
collected, of those that had gone before.
Your wrist I grasped in my
slippered fingers,
and pulled your blade still deeper,
to cut the bad seeds out.

You hung, you drew, you quartered me,
and left me out to dry.
Flensed, flayed, and floundering,
acquiescing to my fate.

Later, we walked to
the hidden market,
atop the distant hill,
I dragged my skin behind
me, soil clinging to its pores.
There, I sold it to the highest
bidder, who waltzed my
hide unshackled, away
to distant shores.

[dukealien]

With a surgeon’s bluff precision
you cut me with your scalpel,
parting my dermis, as
Moses parts the sea,
revealing the glistening,
hidden creatures,  
that flap forlornly,
on the newly naked floor.  first stanza, metaphor containing a simile.  Graphic... too graphic?  Vivisection rather than autopsy.

We lay upon your wood bound  change of pace, slight grin after "wood"
bed, a gurney, moulded to your needs.
Beneath, an ancient gore  need a connection to make "gore" specific - pile of, well of,  that sort of thing
collected, of those that had gone before.
Your wrist I grasped in my   is the inversion (instead of "I grasped your wrist")  necessary?  Perhaps.
slippered fingers,  one pictures hands in carpet slippers rather than gloved fingers here.
and pulled your blade still deeper,  suggest "drew" rather than "pulled"
to cut the bad seeds out.  Aha!  Significant, there is a purpose here, not random of sadistic torture.  Good turn.

You hung, you drew, you quartered me,  having a little trouble with "drew" - the drawing was with the four horses, wasn't it?
and left me out to dry.  an improvement on "hung" in the usual cliche (used in previous line anyway) but could be more striking - left to bleed out?
Flensed, flayed, and floundering,  nice alliteration, of course.  My detail hobgoblin insists that the whale must remain afloat to be flensed.*
acquiescing to my fate.  Another well-placed significant line.  Combined with the previous stanza's last line, one notes the victim/narrator does not take responsibility for the evil - it's seeds or fate.

Later, we walked to  this last stanza is at a higher level of allusion/delusion/symbolism.  The cutter is no longer impersonal?
the hidden market,
atop the distant hill, just for variety, could one of these "the" be "that?"
I dragged my skin behind
me, soil clinging to its pores. clogging its pores?
There, I sold it to the highest
bidder, who waltzed my
hide unshackled, away again, might this work as well or better without the inversion - "my/unshackled hide away?"  Also, though the beat is neat, perhaps the integument could be unbound rather than unshackled - chains were not mentioned previously
to distant shores. an unfortunate cliche.  Pardon the suggestion, but perhaps to more appreciative shores, or ports not yet infected with his evil.

*Or, if small enough, drawn up into the factory ship.

In moderate critique, this contains a story and progression, with effective supporting images.   The theme of being skinned alive by an acquaintance (or friend)  comes back in at the last stanza after a detour into possible (actual) cancer surgery.  To me, the interpretation is not very clear:  is the narrator selling his outward, false nature, the friendly skinner having obligingly removed it for him?  Which, in the entertainment biz, would make the scalpel-wielder a  tough critic or, more likely, his agent.

This is an engaging poem on a theme (this author) has touched on before - the pains inflicted by... art, or attraction, or just living.  This time, not so much smitten as partnered by the other character.  Better than being just smitten and left for dead:  the flenser cares.

(In the above, in moderate critique, don't take the criticism too much to heart - and especially not my idiosyncratic interpretations.  Hope some suggestions are useful.)

[JamesG]

Thanks for the feedback Dukealien!

With a surgeon’s bluff precision
you cut me with your scalpel,
parting my dermis, as
Moses parts the sea,
revealing the glistening,
hidden creatures,  
that flap forlornly,
on the newly naked floor.  first stanza, metaphor containing a simile.  Graphic... too graphic?  Vivisection rather than autopsy.

We lay upon your wood bound  change of pace, slight grin after "wood"
bed, a gurney, moulded to your needs.
Beneath, an ancient gore  need a connection to make "gore" specific - pile of, well of,  that sort of thing I kinda like that this is left unspecified 
collected, of those that had gone before.
Your wrist I grasped in my   is the inversion (instead of "I grasped your wrist")  necessary?  Perhaps.
slippered fingers,  one pictures hands in carpet slippers rather than gloved fingers here. Maybe ;0) I think I just liked the term "slippered fingers"
and pulled your blade still deeper,  suggest "drew" rather than "pulled" Yes, I think you may be right here, although I do use "drew" later in the poem. 
to cut the bad seeds out.  Aha!  Significant, there is a purpose here, not random of sadistic torture.  Good turn.

You hung, you drew, you quartered me,  having a little trouble with "drew" - the drawing was with the four horses, wasn't it? Yes, but as a visual artist, which I mostly am, drew, used as the past tense of draw, has a specific meaning.
and left me out to dry.  an improvement on "hung" in the usual cliche (used in previous line anyway) but could be more striking - left to bleed out?
Flensed, flayed, and floundering,  nice alliteration, of course.  My detail hbgoblin insists that the whale must remain afloat to be flensed.* To be honest, I used "flensed" for its cutting associatons rather than any blubber connnotations ;0)notations
acquiescing to my fate.  Another well-placed significant line.  Combined with the previous stanza's last line, one notes the victim/narrator does not take responsibility for the evil - it's seeds or fate.

Later, we walked to  this last stanza is at a higher level of allusion/delusion/symbolism.  The cutter is no longer impersonal?
the hidden market,
atop the distant hill, just for variety, could one of these "the" be "that?" Yes!
I dragged my skin behind
me, soil clinging to its pores. clogging its pores? Yes, I prefer your take.
There, I sold it to the highest
bidder, who waltzed my
hide unshackled, away again, might this work as well or better without the inversion - "my/unshackled hide away?"  Also, though the beat is neat, perhaps the integument could be unbound rather than unshackled - chains were not mentioned previously Maybe...
to distant shores. an unfortunate cliche.  Pardon the suggestion, but perhaps to more appreciative shores, or ports not yet infected with his evil. I would agree this is weak, although it scanned better than the line I had in previously, although I now can't remember what that was. I will revisit.

*Or, if small enough, drawn up into the factory ship.

In moderate critique, this contains a story and progression, with effective supporting images.   The theme of being skinned alive by an acquaintance (or friend)  comes back in at the last stanza after a detour into possible (actual) cancer surgery.  To me, the interpretation is not very clear:  is the narrator selling his outward, false nature, the friendly skinner having obligingly removed it for him?  Which, in the entertainment biz, would make the scalpel-wielder a  tough critic or, more likely, his agent.

This is an engaging poem on a theme (this author) has touched on before - the pains inflicted by... art, or attraction, or just living.  This time, not so much smitten as partnered by the other character.  Better than being just smitten and left for dead:  the flenser cares.

Tbh, I am not sure myself what this poem is about. It was broadly inspired by seeing a girl on the train who had a lot of clearly self-inflicted scar tissue on one of her forearms. 

(In the above, in moderate critique, don't take the criticism too much to heart - and especially not my idiosyncratic interpretations.  Hope some suggestions are useful.)

---

[dukealien]

I would agree this is weak, although it scanned better than the line I had in previously, although I now can't remember what that was. I will revisit. 

Always keep copies of interim versions - (computer) memory is cheap... and more reliable than writer's   !

[MrMitchieMooMoo]

With a surgeon’s bluff precision
you cut me with your scalpel,
parting my dermis, as
Moses parts the sea,
revealing the glistening,
hidden creatures,
that flap forlornly,
on the newly naked floor.

We lay upon your wood bound
bed, a gurney, moulded to your needs.
Beneath, an ancient gore
collected, of those that had gone before.
Your wrist I grasped in my
slippered fingers,
and pulled your blade still deeper,
to cut the bad seeds out.

You hung, you drew, you quartered me,
and left me out to dry.
Flensed, flayed, and floundering,
acquiescing to my fate.

Later, we walked to
the hidden market,
atop the distant hill,
I dragged my skin behind
me, soil clinging to its pores.
There, I sold it to the highest
bidder, who waltzed my
hide unshackled, away
to distant shores.

It's written beautifully, but i read (or consume anything, for that matter) simply to feel.

Felt like it was ticking a lot of the right boxes, but the power of word is even through abstract symbology, tapping into a deeper resonance with your audience and making them feel. Anything. Just something. A laugh, a wince, a smile, an 'oh yeah, true', a scratch of the head (even better, an implosion of one). The words come across as being vulnerable but there's little authenticity of voice in what i'm reading. Doesn't say anything about you, which i think is important (connecting to your readers, that is).

Just felt a bit cold and 'too perfect', if that makes sense?

It was nicely structured though for sure.

[JamesG]

I take your point at this might sound a little cold but I would contend that that is necessary within the context of the poem. Structure and language are very important to me, so thank you for that anyway.

This poem is very personal to me and is essentially about me, as is all my work; in fact I think that might be a bit of a failing as I’m not really able to write affectively about anything else. I guess that may not come across very well in this one.

[tun]

With a surgeon’s bluff precision
you cut me with your scalpel,
parting my dermis, as
Moses parts the sea,
revealing the glistening,
hidden creatures,
that flap forlornly,
on the newly naked floor.

We lay upon your wood bound
bed, a gurney, moulded to your needs.
Beneath, an ancient gore
collected, of those that had gone before.
Your wrist I grasped in my
slippered fingers,
and pulled your blade still deeper,
to cut the bad seeds out.

You hung, you drew, you quartered me,
and left me out to dry.
Flensed, flayed, and floundering,
acquiescing to my fate.

Later, we walked to
the hidden market,
atop the distant hill,
I dragged my skin behind
me, soil clinging to its pores.
There, I sold it to the highest
bidder, who waltzed my
hide unshackled, away
to distant shores.

This piece has real intensity. The surgical metaphor begins clinical but quickly expands into ritual and myth, giving it both brutality and grandeur. The shift to the market scene is especially striking: the body becomes commodity, sacrifice becomes transaction. It’s heavy-handed at times, but its grotesque imagery sustains a strong momentum and creates a memorable, visceral vision of violation and exchange.