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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Collage of Bonesdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Mandolin
    ASL Info:    10/15/89
    Elite Ratio:    5.4 - 131/145/85
    Words: 146
    Class/Type: Poetry/Longing
    Total Views: 644
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1064



    Description:
       I wrote this in treatment for an eating disorder.

    It does not only apply to an eating disorder, it's about masks, about hiding - behind anything from make up to bravado, behind perfectionism, or behind an old hoodie, behind isolation, or popularity.

    Alternative title: Brittle Mask

    Longer comments appreciated, the more feedback the more opportunity I have to learn and improve. Thank you.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsCollage of Bonesdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Eccentric collector, I am,
    of the ‘ideal’ in full selection
    display the feathers glued
    skeletal and framed
    yearning hearts
    alas, the aching of somber silent stone

    Here, glint seen by none
    too deep and alone
    pretty and pale
    the unfeeling pastels
    a glamorous paper hue to life

    Shelves filled with lost time
    dedicated to the idol’s devotion

    Keeping here these bits and pieces
    knicks and knacks entombed
    noose-like round the neck
    collector’s core disappears
    in mask, in shroud
    roots mold and dust shows,
    in round glow neglected the backwards task

    Collector I am
    library of waste, shame, guilt, plague
    here, touch the binding
    dirt and dreams and all that lies mean

    Read me
    and tell me what the heart says
    this is a burning of heart's dam

    Hear the waters flow
    ease away the bold
    count the bones
    I'm old




    Submitted on 2008-02-19 13:20:58     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I truly felt it. The words, the staccato pace, all very effective.

    Your peice reminds me of twisted copper wire (in a good way). What, exactly, that means, I'm not sure.

    Good poem
    | Posted on 2008-02-20 00:00:00 | by ARoomOfMyOwn | [ Reply to This ]
      The pain I feel coming from this makes me remember a time I searched for perfection. Control, pain, bones make you beautiful, just 5 more pounds to perfection, just a few more till I find myself in the hospital. Oh so bitter sweet. Oh so painfully sculpted. Why couldn't I be perfect too?

    Sorry about that randomness, I am going to leave it though, because I feel that I needed to type it down and leave it. Somewhere, so here is good enough.

    I liked the piece. It conveyed a true and heartfelt emotion and that is what writing is supposed to do.

    Briannan
    | Posted on 2008-02-20 00:00:00 | by Briannan | [ Reply to This ]


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