A Few Nights Back [Explicit]

[koolguy1029]

(I'm have the feeling that a good deal of this poem is a little unnecessary/redundant, so any tips on how to trim it(if you feel that it needs to be) are appreciated)

This pillow

is not a body.

Something I

realize in

analphabet ramblings.

I should have been

asleep an hour ago.

.

I’m fighting a bout

of self-indulgence,

of mindless, of

specious whines

as if I’d want

someone to listen.

.

I’ve been trying

not to eat my

liver, I’ve been

thinking about

what you taste

like.

.
I’ve been thinking

of putting my tongue

on your body. I

always pretend like I

I do it to make my

way to a destination,

as if teasing a cunt.

.

But I want to put

this fallacy on you

when I occasionally

put reason to rest.

Each hair I’m reminded

that I can’t breathe

freely, because I can

see each follicle.

.

And with every hair

on you(and seeing

every other pretense

of pollutants), I let

myself forget about

vice, because I can

see each hair and I

let myself think that

you have none.

.

I let myself believe

this just long enough

to put my tongue on

you, or long enough

to want to. I let myself

believe this just long

enough for you to tell

me that I’m beautiful,

and I remember this

long enough to want

it.

.

I diverge my position,

I can’t sleep like this.

I accompany uncomfortable

desires with sharing my

realizings with a friend.

He wishes me the

best. It’s too late in

the midweek to talk

of such things.

.

These incoherences

leave me wanting to

come, I can feel it,

but know I should be

sleeping. I think of

putting my tongue

on your cunt, and tense

harder to remind

myself that this pillow

is not a body.

.

I think back to the

first time I did, and

the music I played.

I try not to associate

music to experiences

because I’m scared

of what people can do.

.

That time I brushed it

off, because I wanted

sense deprivation, and

I wanted to hear this

and taste that. I played

the same song three

times and I can’t

remember that this

song isn’t your name.

.

After you left I let

myself worry of such

consequences, I

feared what it implied,

but brushed it off

as a helpless

possibility.

.

I still remember it

and get scared of

the clock, and of

what things will

attach itself

to each new

position of each

hand.

.

But I remember

it a lot less, less

than of others,

because I remember

that you called me

beautiful once.

.

I know you’re asleep,

an inevitable peace

to compliment hours

of frustration. I think

of you sleeping.

I relax.

.

I know I should

be sleeping too. But

this pillow is not your

body.

[destiny1313]

I realllly enjoyed this one! I am not a great critic but what works about it for me is that reading it was like hearing your thoughts as you are lying there. You may be right it may need trimming, but it did it for me because it seemed to match the way your mind works when you lay there in bed and these thoughts come .

[billy]

hi kool

if you feel you have a redundancy problem, you probably have it if so a line by line may be better suited to point any such phenom out. one thing that;s off putting is the double line spacing, it stretches this particular poem too much. i think some of the enjambment makes the piece stutter unduly, it can be one of the problem of using such sort lines
i think there is a fair bit of redundancy in there, i stopped part way down because were in mild crit. thing is the redundancies are a small thing to put right. what i like about it is the train of thought that's going on. some of the repetition works well, i'm okay with cunt being used twice, but i think some of it is walking a fine line. i like how it seems to be just flooding out. well worth the read and well worth an edit there is one part that had me thinking this was written by a woman (and that's not an assertion ) the part is;

I let myself

believe this just long

enough for you to tell

me that I’m beautiful,

(I'm have the feeling that a good deal of this poem is a little unnecessary/redundant, so any tips on how to trim it(if you feel that it needs to be) are appreciated)

This pillow

is not a body.

Something I

realize in

analphabet ramblings.

I should have been

asleep an hour ago.

.

I’m fighting a bout

of self-indulgence,

of mindless, of no need for these two 'of's'

specious whines

as if I’d want

someone to listen.

.

I’ve been trying

not to eat my

liver, I’ve been

thinking about

what you taste

like.

.
I’ve been thinking redundy

of putting my tongue

on your body. I

always pretend like I no need for like i while the double I looks like a verbal pause it also doesn't work too well.

I do it to make my

way to a destination,

as if teasing a cunt.

.

But I want to put no need for but

this fallacy on you

when I occasionally occasionally is redundy

put reason to rest.

Each hair I’m reminded does this line need a 'with' at the beginning?

that I can’t breathe

freely, because I can

see each follicle.

.

And with every hair feels redundy

on you(and seeing u (

every other pretense

of pollutants), I let

myself forget about

vice, because I can

see each hair and I

let myself think that let myself is redundy

you have none.

.

I let myself believe

this just long enough

to put my tongue on

you, or long enough

to want to. I let myself

believe this just long

enough for you to tell

me that I’m beautiful,

and I remember this

long enough to want

it.

.

I diverge my position,

I can’t sleep like this.

I accompany uncomfortable

desires with sharing my

realizings with a friend.

He wishes me the

best. It’s too late in

the midweek to talk

of such things.

.

These incoherences

leave me wanting to

come, I can feel it,

but know I should be

sleeping. I think of

putting my tongue

on your cunt, and tense

harder to remind

myself that this pillow

is not a body.

.

I think back to the

first time I did, and

the music I played.

I try not to associate

music to experiences

because I’m scared

of what people can do.

.

That time I brushed it

off, because I wanted

sense deprivation, and

I wanted to hear this

and taste that. I played

the same song three

times and I can’t

remember that this

song isn’t your name.

.

After you left I let

myself worry of such

consequences, I

feared what it implied,

but brushed it off

as a helpless

possibility.

.

I still remember it

and get scared of

the clock, and of

what things will

attach itself

to each new

position of each

hand.

.

But I remember

it a lot less, less

than of others,

because I remember

that you called me

beautiful once.

.

I know you’re asleep,

an inevitable peace

to compliment hours

of frustration. I think

of you sleeping.

I relax.

.

I know I should

be sleeping too. But

this pillow is not your

body.

[Jae Mc Donnell]

Hello koolguy, and thankyou for the read. I won't add too much to what has already been said, but I must say I also got female writer when I read this
But in saying this I'm sure this is just a slight sexism, as in a male or female should act or speak in a set manner as a result of their gender, which is not cool
As for the poem, I really enjoyed it. But it did feel a small bit long winded as a result of the lining.
Other than this good job

[koolguy1029]

Thanks for the criticism. You guys have set me on the right track towards editing it. Much appreciated!