a couple of shotgun shells emptied the left side of my apartment. i had about nine days worth of speed in my system.
may include improved impulse control, decreased sensory overstimulation, decreased anxiety, and
she had eyes like those gem stones she always wanted me to buy off street thugs. she had the thorax of a bumble bee. i miss the way she cried out my name. it sounded the same under my fist as when we first fucked on the stairway of a motel on the upside of istanbul. what a piece of loving plastic is the body whored.
overstimulation of anxiety, a shot glass resting carefully on a magazine with an ugly red head on the cover, and it always ends in thunder and her touch is always the lightning and the drops of rain burn like
hell. the place set off, my room was a fucking incinerator. those leaky pipes made the kitchen look a little like a sauna. im not sure what i had my tongue running along, but whatever it was i licked it in a perfect parabola. god, maybe i had more than amphetamines in me.
consumption of mercury may affect cognition, impair senses, disturb coordination.
what the fuck was in that drink?
the stuff that dreams are made of.
Author notes
this is what comes out when my head starts hurting.
A contest entry
- Noir by Rembrandt Clarke.
875 points, ended August 6, 7 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 21 of 21
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Now not many people know that that isn't the final line of The Maltese Falcon!
Nice gold.
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i suppose i couldve followed it with "huh?"
LOL
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I love a person who knows his movies!
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just the ones critics tell me to know. i rob the local bars with an ace trivia team
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!!!
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this has got to be one of my favorite pieces on this site. beautiful!
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I loved the imagery in this. It's very vivid and the emotions this piece conjures up come out strong. Fantastic work. I don't have anything to critique. This is a great prose piece.
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one of the most original things i've read in a while!
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oh did i slip you a mickey?
bad heidi!!!!!
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favorite thing i've read of yours in a good while! i loved this! it's dangerous!
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gracias cassidy
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what a piece of loving plastic is the body whored.<--- this sounds so like me. by the way... why are you following me... am i your prophet? i mean what's up with the suicidal tone and all.
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suicide? you might need to read this again, tania.
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well yeah.. it actually is tempting me to intake mecury... yum yum... "suicidal tone" was just something a sleepless fuck would type, alexander. you should know.
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whoa, switching it up...black background instead of a white one, eh? nice.
but there's quite a bit of great stuff in this. i love the alterations between the description in italics and the initial narration.
fabulous end line, as well.
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& i second notorious' comment about your title.
it instantly drew me in to reading this. -
yeah. it just wouldnt have looked noiry enough without the black. lol.
hows life? -
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haha, life's good... been chillin and working... aka a whole lot of nothing thrilling. yerself?
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Oh shit.
I was going to leave the comment like that, but every time I'm complimentary but monosyllabic with you, I feel guilty.
"arson or something with the same savory taste"
You always remind me why so many people try to come up with good long titles...you actually come up with good ones, though.
I love how the 'and' in the first italicized portion goes incomplete. It's deliberate and fucking clever (read this line again and again).
"like those gem stones she always wanted me to buy off street thugs."
!!!
!!!
!!!
Fuck (how very descriptive praise can be, huh.)
"what a piece of loving plastic is the body whored."
When you die,
this is the poetic line I will be thinking of. It sounds profound, but not in an intentional way...it's...catchy, even. It's a good line. I don't know how to articulate my praise.
"the stuff that dreams are made of."
YUSH.
;
Jessica.
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i love it when you do that -- alternate prose and italic prose. it makes the thoughts flow in this oddly but deliciously interrupted way.
"she had the thorax of a bumble bee." -- romantic, almost, but in a dirty, tragic kind of way.
"i licked it in a perfect parabola." -- aha! true poetic insanity: when saliva and math somehow relate.
"the stuff that dreams are made of." -- incredibly nice twist on something incredibly cliche.
etc, etc.
i'm not coherent when my head hurts. so i'm impressed.
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gracias.
and i found advil!!! huzzah!
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