The cold of dusk lacerates my open eyes.
And for the longest time
I have been remote from the world.
Names and faces are escape artists.
I am the confinement.
I don't always win.
Except when i am mixed and molded and bolted in.
Still, dreams escape me best.
Yet tonight was different.
As soon as,
They race against each other, these contrived breaths.
Whatís even more is the fact that
I dreamt everything was a lie.
Iím a sucker for promises.
Trust is suicide.
I dreamt you chose someone over someone else.
Elsa or Elsie. That shouldíve been my name.
I dreamt I was left to be alone now.
I am not used to that.
The post-depression devil was right.
What we had was a dreamerís last pas de deux
And that I
Really never should have tried oxygen or anything like it.
Because I knew I would like it.
I didnít know I would like you.
Love makes the prettiest marshmallows out of igneous rocks.
It tolerates you to sleep on the truth.
Come to think of it
I donít remember waking up.
...And I thought my brother was the biggest bitch Iíd ever encounter.
This certainly holds readers attention. You have some great lines and interesting wordplay. The piece has a mark of the state you were in while writing it (canít sleep-too much thinking). I think that itís good when a poem has an atmosphere of its own, but in this case I think that the state of ďnot sleeping too much thinkingĒ overcome you. So the piece is kind of random and vague. With some tying up it would be much better.
I will play privy to disagreement in this fantastic muddle. What an inspiring use of words you have. And for only 17! I must admit, at 20 I have definitely seen a few words but NEVER psuedophantasmics. You are quite an extraordinary writer. Keep it up and don't give in. I really enjoy your work.
I like this piece beacouse of its theme, but I agree with Pietro, you have some very good opoutunities with this but I think, again, some editing and re-wording and it will be even better.Not bad for a new user.