Certain Love

[Andrias]

This one is probably my shortest I've ever written:

Certain Love:

Self-love, dying to hate, whereas fingers can’t relate
Voicing grievances, rather than mutually masturbate
Ripped out your heart from it's emotional sleeve
Next to where the roses ejaculate their seeds,
budding a new-born spring, Incandescent feelings,
showered in blood, crying tears thicker than mud
Savoring sweet nothings from vacant voices
Like chewing a poisoned candied apple
Drawing from the well of indifferent choices
Salting the womb, the still born at noon
Forsaken a vice broken in disgust
Never satisfied until it costs a life…

Slightly revised:

Certain love:

 

Self-love, dying to hate, holding hands,

Cross your fingers and masturbate

Eat your heart out from its emotional sleeve

Next to where the roses ejaculate their seeds,

budding a new-born spring, Incandescent feelings,

showered in blood, crying tears softer than mud

Savoring sweet nothings from vacant voices

Like chewing a poisoned candied apple

Drawing from the well of indifferent choices

Salting the womb, the still born at noon

Forsaken a vice broken in disgust

Never satisfied until it costs a life…

 
 

[Acephale]

This one is probably my shortest I've ever written:

Certain Love:

Self-love, dying to hate, whereas fingers can’t relate (Is self-love dying to self-hate or are you wishing to hate?)
Voicing grievances, rather than mutually masturbate (This is awkward but I like what you're trying to do here)
Ripped out your heart from it's emotional sleeve (I would change this to "Ripped the heart out' and 'its')
Next to where the roses ejaculate their seeds, (I would take out 'next')
budding a new-born spring, Incandescent feelings, 
showered in blood, crying tears thicker than mud (these are a bit cliche) 
Savoring sweet nothings from vacant voices
Like chewing a poisoned candied apple
Drawing from the well of indifferent choices
Salting the womb, the still born at noon (stillborn is one word)
Forsaken a vice broken in disgust
Never satisfied until it costs a life…

As a rule of thumb I keep my 'ing' words to a minimum. I have personally found my poems sound cleaner that way. I would switch up some of the words as well as it seems to not flow together properly. I'm having a hard time understanding what the poem is about. It seems like we're dealing with the end of a relationship and what it does to a person emotionally, an emotional death? I thought it needed some structure or reference point, but I see potential in this. Using a consistent image certainly helps. Words such as newborn, masturbate, womb and stillborn all work. I hope that helps.

[homer1950]

Hi Andrias,
To me this reads like a spoken word piece. That aside I think you really had something going until L-8 then it seemed to be a little dialed in. I think you could end really strong if you re-thought your ending L-8 to L-12. 

This one is probably my shortest I've ever written:

Certain Love:

Self-love, dying to hate, whereas fingers can’t relate
Voicing grievances, rather than mutually masturbate
Ripped out your heart from it's emotional sleeve
Next to where the roses ejaculate their seeds,
budding a new-born spring, Incandescent feelings,
showered in blood, crying tears thicker than mud
Savoring sweet nothings from vacant voices
Like chewing a poisoned candied apple
Drawing from the well of indifferent choices
Salting the womb, the still born at noon
Forsaken a vice broken in disgust
Never satisfied until it costs a life…

[LunaDeLore]

Andrias,

I think your revision adds greatly to your work and I only have some suggestion to further enhance the work:

Self-love, dying to hate, holding hands,

Cross your fingers and masturbate

Eat your heart out from its emotional sleeve

Next to where the roses ejaculate their seeds, ------ I think you could omit "their seeds" although I know that would take even more length off the work.

budding a new-born spring, Incandescent feelings,

showered in blood, crying tears softer than mud

Savoring sweet nothings from vacant voices

Like chewing a poisoned candied apple

Drawing from the well of indifferent choices

Salting the womb, the still born at noon

Forsaken a vice broken in disgust

Never satisfied until it costs a life… ------- Does it really "costs s life" or does it take it?

Good work,

Luna