Played Out -------------------------------------------
Iím played out
too late to come back in
from the cold
often of the faults I got
use to getting used.
and abusing pot
I choose these eyes
to stay blood shot
A kiss is not just a kiss.
Where are my kids?
Iím too caloused
to express my true sadness.
would rather die
on one hand i read this and get a bit of suicide from it, which if thats what this is about, i'm hoping you're just writing about it and not actually considering it. on the other hand, the beginning of this makes me think of elite skills. i know what it feels like when you're use to getting high view and comment numbers, then you disappear for a little bit and all of a sudden you're barely getting any comments at all. thats what this reminds me of...elite frustration.
anyway, just to let ya know, if you ever need to talk i'm always here buddy.
I could go on and on about the talent you have with words, the way you be-friended a chick that pissed you off when you first met her. I could tell you that life sucks royally, but offing yourself isn't going to help anyone.
there is something so sad yet so strikingly blasť about the tone in this piece. i don't know whether to flow along or to stop and wonder, but overall it is very appealing. i have read over some of your other work and your writing style, i would have to say, is very unique. nice work. ~cynthia
One of the reasons I love reading what you write is that you have a knack for wording and rhythm/rhyme devices, but more importantly, you have this skill for making the tone of the piece almost the opposite of the tone of the meaning. I'm sure I blew the explanation of that, lemme try again.
This piece, if you take it phrase by phrase, with no regard for the whole, is a very depressing, sad, suicidal piece... but when read as a whole, it's bordering on upbeat... like, "hey, everything is [censored], everything sucks, wanna go get ice cream?"
I love that. It makes honest writing palatable in a new, interesting, and highly original way. Kick-ass...