Between friends who think that they have stage presence
because their love lives were written by Fall Out Boy
and mourning spilt glasses
of Alsace Red
I'm losing my grip on the words.
And I don't know why.
Suddenly, every blank page
is another dismal concrete wall-
and I'm no graffiti artist.
I just snapped another pencil in frustration.
Author notes
Blarghvomitblargh.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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it feels finished to me. boy i've missed you. i think the last line was perfect. it tied it all together. how have you been?
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Trinaness, yay! I've missed you, too!
I'm pretty good, ty- I'm done with college and am working, so I'll be able to get out to the states within a few months.
Sorry it's taken me ages to reply to this- I have no internet atm so I can only get online for like ten minutes in the mornings when I'm at work.
How are you?
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The poem parades well the devilment of the deep blue sea that washes over creativity and inspiration causing perspicacity and perspiration.I understand both the friends frantic over fall out boy and mourning alsace red,within the dismal dormant period that is felt within is the stepping stone to the soul sigh that has taken a deep,deep breath,becoming re oxygenated.Liked the reference to not being a graffiti artist very much.You blarghvomitblargh in technicolour.
I agree with Ash re the feeling of being unfinished yet this in itself compounds what voice of the poet and the poem.Job done and done well.
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This seems unfinished, for some reason.
But I like it. Except the last line. I dunno... it seems more like a transitional statement than a closer.
Other than that, you still got it. Even when you don't realise that you do.
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