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But, no life to speak.
“Say what, dear?!... Let loose my hand!”
“Here’s pen and paper!... Get the thumb and hold, hold!”
(Enforced scribbles, cliché drops.)
…there won’t be fireflies tonight?
…the bright-eyed cat crying for food
has its daughter rotting in the gutter?
…fraternity is in the guilty eyes
that meet while avoiding the roadkill?
…I still don’t know life from habit?
Perhaps he felt “never mind”;
Or perhaps, the body did no more hold sense,
but instincts that
still loved home.
| GOD DAMN IT. I was okay until I read the bit about the cat, and now I cant see my dan screen to properly write a critique. Congratulations on unintentionally hitting a chord with someone you've never met! THAT is what good writing is csuppose to do, it's supposed to throttle your senses and eleave you gasping for more, or for it to stop, or both. I'm trying so hard not to freakin' dcry anymore! GAAAH! I HATE YOU!!!|
(I don't, really)
Post-edit: At multiple points in my life, I, too, have bypassed roadkill and felt utter shame. Maybe the death of animals is something I feel tenfold because of my strange kinship with them. The line works! If the readers don't feel the piece by the time they read this line, the fault is with the reader, not with the writer. The strength here is that it's short, cutthroat, and incredibly lethal. Adding more might be pushing it. Again, great job!
|| Posted on 2013-02-25 00:00:00 | by Trufflepiggy | [ Reply to This ] |