misty carbon spills out from chapped lips gone crispy from a long night spent sucking in stagnate air seeping out from vents, clipped toes turned frosty by tiny sprites sinking through damp socks tanned yellow in the approaching starlight...
cold air clings to flesh like infants abandoned by mothers in third world countries who've lost both infrastructure and peace of mind, soft ice crystals fly stinging through bleak parking lots blasting paranoia, like a rabbit in the middle of a field at dusk, or a runaway train jumping the tracks in the middle of the forest at midnight...
guilt weighs heavily like a blanket of lead at a sterile MRI screening finding cancer when on the lookout for insanity, stretching north like that interstate in upstate New York overtaken with pine trees and piercing yellow headlights...
dawn arrives so cold it splits the sidewalk, sending steam whistles through tiny pores in the ground exfoliating, dodgy individuals in black coats and pale skin march under the fading moon selling toxic poetry to starving artists picking up needles instead of a paintbrush, a gun instead of a pen…
Author notes
in limbo...
A contest entry
- Dark Pre-Writes Only by tears.of.silence.
550 points, ends December 18, 198 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Comments
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I like this...
perhaps stagnant (rather than stagnate) in line 2. Otherwise there is nothing you should change - in fact I would like to see more development of interesting ideas! As others say, the ending is powerful.
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Your imagery is unique, and like the person below me, really enjoyed the last paragraph especially. Good writing mixed with a good message. The form of it I don't like as much, seems a paragraph is just a large run on sentence. Also, there may've been a bit too many similes in there. Short similes aren't bad, but the one about mothers in third world countries, while it's a good descriptive, it seems a bit extended for a simile and I have a pet peeve against them.
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strong chilling narration my fav line .. dodgy individuals in black coats and pale skin march under the fading moon selling toxic poetry to starving artists picking up needles instead of a paintbrush, a gun instead of a pen…
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