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can't see my hand above,
but shards of images
glittering under the sun...
In the ghostly paperboy's cries
are scales unfaithfully left behind,
rubbers, already adults, her,
the dog-face and the unidentified cocoon.
Gasping for breath,
the sterilized syringe
only tugs at flesh
(puke to see the barren things
still going by them.
| this sounds like a drug addiction thought thats my thought, like when I was reading it and what it spoke of, kinda seems like your expressing your life through ruff times or a bad time, depressed maybe IDK, but over all the write it self seemed pretty deep to me very deep, thanks for shareing your thoughts of life, God bless my friend|
|| Posted on 2013-02-15 00:00:00 | by theinforment | [ Reply to This ] || Hey Snow, good to read something new of yours. I have been MIA or I would have commented sooner.|
This has a eerie feel to it and the way it's kind of fragmented adds to the fear that the title lends. I think it's really good. I wondered a little about the arrangement of the stanzas. I sort of felt like the first and second should trade places, but I may not be reading as you intend it to be read. I'd like to hear your thoughts on that.
...the barren things constituting you...I really like this line.
|| Posted on 2013-02-13 00:00:00 | by emwren | [ Reply to This ] |