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Once I held a glass hand in my hand, and this other hand of mine had fingers, one of which pointed towards there. Determined like a halcyon gaze - you know onward Then I held a murky thought in my mind and this furtive idea I had conjured made fickle threats against this other hand of mine. It said fornever And so I noticed a crack in the inner psalms of this other hand of mine; a broken voice that once held direction now hollow like an eerie halloween tree, a grimace tucked under shadows growing... when I also noticed blood dripping from my own palm for I was holding on tightly maybe even too tightly. This is where the narrative digs a shallow grave in lieu of ending; I've decided it ought to catch a few - just a few - Zs, and I've given it a bell and some string to be safe. Just remember kids, glass is too fragile to hold tightly, that's why platitudes embellish themselves through plastic - for although it can be deformed, it is all but fragile. |
I hate the word play, your little puns sound pretentious as does the tacked on ending which you obviously know is tacked on because you say it is. You sound like your going through the motions and having a ball just talking about how irrelevent it all is. Thats quite lazy. Really, I don't meen to be mean but you really don't seem into this so I don't feel into it either. I am the lizard King, I can do anything...whatever, you seem like a competent writer but to me this poem borders on insulting, title and all. Id rather read a more ambitious offering by a less talented writer. -Craig | Posted on 2009-08-01 00:00:00 | by Raphael | [ Reply to This ] | |