some things just go
without saying. a tinfoil star,
a christmas carol, that saxophone boy
and that hole-in-the-wall day he
improvised something chained up
and shadowed.
a stream of sewer sludge,
fattened, rich, dark
with blood. you touch
your face to the latticework of wire
like somehow that's going
to get you out of here,
like somehow people are going
to see you lying still there
in puddles of your own fear,
an enormously concrete eye swelling
your soul with the worst
kind of missing.
that dumbfuck boy.
still playing on as if i'd actually
stop in a rain like this, one quick sex
to keep jesus interested.
and you, you stupid bitch.
said it was easy to fake the look
of a girl growing feet
but in the end,
you're about as brilliant
as all the other poor little shits
you left behind when you
decided to live.
Author notes
i hate being home --
prompt: “it's fall and things are hardly falling apart" - Kevin Mcdonald
man, what a day.
A contest entry
- Mental Asylum [INVITE ONLY] by Never Fall in Love.
1750 points, ended June 11, 25 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
i edit like crazy. you critique.
Comments
1 - 24 of 24
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bravo
I drop the "ly" on enormously... that's it though.
steller write; kudos to you.
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haha, I agree with the others - don't edit it at all.
As for the poem, I am simply speechless.
"one quick sex
to keep jesus interested."
how do you think of this?
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the first thing I did here was to try and surmise why you used white on black- it usually denotes a certain depressed mood mingled with disappointment in life, and usually accusatory in nature... but the first stanza did not have any of that... but then the voice get a bit tooth-gnashing about some boy and the female being addressed... I couldn't place the piece- the three of you are floating in space... maybe it is happening at a club with a live jazz revue (unless the sax player was in the school orchestra), maybe on a dark and rainy street... if it is merely being played out in your head, then space it is!
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just a street at night, with a musician playing for coins on the corner and a chainlink fence. thanks for the comment. :]
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that is a cool backdrop- now if you could weave it in somehow... maybe an introductory "scene setting" or something... it would 'anchor' the piece without affecting the content, which exists just fine floating in space...!
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it seems like my comment went west. again the poem was some damn good. it just happens at times and this is one of those times. Good luck
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I love this one. sometimes it just the f ____ happens. This time is it. may you do well in the contest.
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beautiful
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this deserves to win, without any doubt.
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Wow!! thats all there is to say
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Dont think it needs editing at all
Not going to quote cz i'd end up quoting the whole poem, I swear I loved it all Haha your my age, I swear i'll never write that well
Hmm never stop writing it would be a total shame, and you'll only get better, damn that thought is almost frightening
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love this one
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"i edit like crazy" - just don't o.O
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incredible. that's really all i can say.
helen~
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amazing. i have to remind myself you are only sixteen years old. your talent is going to get you far if you just
stick with it and never let go of the grittiness and the
'realness' of your voice. this poem seems like a personal one, but the imagery is superb, the angst...well put.
Love, Lane
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the first two stanzas were just...oh my god. you're so incredible. i love your work.
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stunning. it's amazing. i can't say more, but your imagery and metaphors are, like always, fucking wonderful.
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i love you!
holy shit, it's good.
[still coming today?]
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[it is becoming more and more doubtful by the minute. hopefully by the end of your junior seminar, it won't be TOO doubtful.]
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I never wished you happy birthday! so: HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
also, COME TO GUILFORD, dammit. -
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i would! if.......i weren't already in durham. ehehe.
thanks, love.
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Damn, girl.
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dont touch a thing!
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