01-08-2011, 05:53 PM
I have exploded again.
Leaking fluids, I stifle a scream,
as my skull hits the headboard (Great use of sound!)
and my fingers become lost (The reiteration of "my" sounds awkward to me)
in a forest of pubic hair,
beset by this useless teenage seed
I was warned against using on comely lasses. (Sounds a bit awkward. Maybe a bit of a run on?)
I am running, I am running,
towards a point of light
not far from here, somewhere in the distance,
a flashlight in a dark classroom, (Beautiful)
after school has finished. I never reach it. (Wow! That was startling...After school has finished. Great enjambment)
The book always ends with me still running,
an ellipses at the end of the page,
and then the Author's Note,
beneath a picture of a boy sighing,
wiping himself down with his sleeve,
and dreaming of violation, control.
Romance through dominance.
And now falling backwards, (Is "and" needed?)
The blue walls like receptionists (Is "the" needed?)
who take your new prescription,
stamp it, and then send you on your way. ("send you on your way" You're much more original than that, Jack!)
The pale morning sunshine slices
my face like a razor. (So-So metaphor.)
I've bled the dream out through my genitals. (Again, you're adept at dark imagery.)
And now the stale smell of yesterday's dinner,
dumped in a sack on my bed's upper bunk
(my father's a terrible cook) returns,
choking me with its grey realism,
its lack of come and purple thoughts.(Awesome and chilling ending)
Naturally an enjoyable read. I read it out loud, and unless indicated, most sections had a nice rhythm with a great use of sound! You remain one of the only teenagers I know that can write good, dark poetry about such things.
Leaking fluids, I stifle a scream,
as my skull hits the headboard (Great use of sound!)
and my fingers become lost (The reiteration of "my" sounds awkward to me)
in a forest of pubic hair,
beset by this useless teenage seed
I was warned against using on comely lasses. (Sounds a bit awkward. Maybe a bit of a run on?)
I am running, I am running,
towards a point of light
not far from here, somewhere in the distance,
a flashlight in a dark classroom, (Beautiful)
after school has finished. I never reach it. (Wow! That was startling...After school has finished. Great enjambment)
The book always ends with me still running,
an ellipses at the end of the page,
and then the Author's Note,
beneath a picture of a boy sighing,
wiping himself down with his sleeve,
and dreaming of violation, control.
Romance through dominance.
And now falling backwards, (Is "and" needed?)
The blue walls like receptionists (Is "the" needed?)
who take your new prescription,
stamp it, and then send you on your way. ("send you on your way" You're much more original than that, Jack!)
The pale morning sunshine slices
my face like a razor. (So-So metaphor.)
I've bled the dream out through my genitals. (Again, you're adept at dark imagery.)
And now the stale smell of yesterday's dinner,
dumped in a sack on my bed's upper bunk
(my father's a terrible cook) returns,
choking me with its grey realism,
its lack of come and purple thoughts.(Awesome and chilling ending)
Naturally an enjoyable read. I read it out loud, and unless indicated, most sections had a nice rhythm with a great use of sound! You remain one of the only teenagers I know that can write good, dark poetry about such things.