deepundergroundpoetry.com
Tilted
He always did have trouble with his words around her
Fondling them all too carefully
They’d suffocate coming off of his tongue
Ready to run himself down at a moments notice
She always used to make him tremble
He'd open that present again and again
A thousand times over in his head
He never cared for the wrapper really
It’s not exactly holding it all together
The drugs were either the disease or the cure
It’s hard to tell with this sort of memory.
Waking from the same dream
In the bottom of an empty well
He would whisper to himself softly
Through the tears
He would have to drink
He used to dream about love
He used to think
Fondling them all too carefully
They’d suffocate coming off of his tongue
Ready to run himself down at a moments notice
She always used to make him tremble
He'd open that present again and again
A thousand times over in his head
He never cared for the wrapper really
It’s not exactly holding it all together
The drugs were either the disease or the cure
It’s hard to tell with this sort of memory.
Waking from the same dream
In the bottom of an empty well
He would whisper to himself softly
Through the tears
He would have to drink
He used to dream about love
He used to think
Published 24th Sep 2011
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The author encourages honest critique.
24th Sep 2011 4:59pm
The first three lines are a great opening; a strong vivid picture. The last two lines about the present and the wrapping are strong as well. It feels like I'm seeing the action in this through a dark glass, reminiscent to the issues your character is having with drugs and affected memory. It's painted very well.
I really like it.
I really like it.
3rd Oct 2011 3:51am
haha thanks alot!
I like what you said about the dark glass. made me realise that this is about my distant past. or a specific part of it anyway. looking through the battered visage of time. gazing upon the sad lonely face of youth. Id trade that pain for back pain any day.
I like what you said about the dark glass. made me realise that this is about my distant past. or a specific part of it anyway. looking through the battered visage of time. gazing upon the sad lonely face of youth. Id trade that pain for back pain any day.
