Joanna Jeanine Schmidt 5/17/25 Joanna Jeanine Schmidt 5/17/25

Benzo Monroe’s Condescending Wound

A Condescending Wound, a soul-crushing collection of poetry, is the latest offering from poet Benzo Monroe. This collection explores the dark corners of his mind, revealing a terrifying landscape of despairing emotions and existential calamities, the weight of each despair palpable.

The opening lines of A Condescending Wound set the tone for what is to come:

"If you relate to this / I'm sorry / You deserve better / I don't"

These words, on their own, are poignant, resonating with a quiet, melancholic beauty. They create a feeling of surrender, a longing to succumb to life's difficulties. This, in juxtaposition with the published book, however, reveals a certain irony: Monroe's search acknowledges finding what he truly needs to exorcise his demons—writing. Perhaps, writing to stay alive, writing to give living a purpose. It's a bitter sentiment, heavy and lingering, that sets the tone for the entire book.

His fixations on death consume these pages. You may find yourself lost in his world, a suffocating atmosphere of broken dreams and unfulfilled desires, the chilling weight of his loneliness pressing down. Monroe is unafraid of his raw emotions; there's no sugarcoating or pretense here, only a brutal honesty that will have readers reeling from the gut-wrenching truths he exposes. There's a haunting, painful elegance in his writing; his raw tone evokes a bittersweet sorrow and grace. He even lashes out at the reader, citing that:

"But you… / A person like you… / Is still somehow alive taking up space and air that someone / That wasn't a complete waste of space could be using right now"

He also disparages himself, at times angrily, albeit still mournfully. Monroe has this to say about his self-loathing:

"Pissing on my own legacy / To get used to it / For the day / They do it to my grave"

A bleak outlook on an emotion that he feels deeply; a sense of never being missed, even after his vicious statements of suicidal ideation, even after his confessions of not having anyone there to stop him from his own self-defeat and idealized death.

The poems themselves are often short, yet they're powerful enough to make you feel the weight of his struggles. He writes with a conversational tone that makes them come alive. There is no pretentiousness in his style; it's unadorned and brutally honest, which can often be uncomfortable to read, especially if you can relate to his perspective. The subject matter is dark, but there's a certain beauty in his darkness, as he eloquently states:

"We don't talk about it / We know what's happening / The worst kept secret / Slowly walking on a tightrope"

Monroe's agony of existence throbs from every line, a raw, visceral ache that resonates with each successive poem, a pain that leaves a mark on the soul, one many readers will identify with, if not with an objective empathy.

In Benzo Monroe's A Condescending Wound, he has woven together a narrative of despair that is sure to leave you reeling at the depth of his humanity, yet it's also strangely alluring in its brutal beauty. This collection is not for everyone; those looking for a light-hearted read should look elsewhere. But for those who can handle the darker corners of misery and have an interest in what makes Monroe tick in despair and what virulent anguish feels like, the book is well worth your time.