Korshunova

[Mulbery]

In the heat of the night
I quietly looked for the knife
that was hid under my bed
for the last eight years.

Another darkest hour
devoid of reason
and hindsight.
God loves no one -
If you must insist
that love exists.

My spirit man died nameless
by autumn.
The hypothetical wife did not mourn;
the valediction of a schizo.

[Arian]

The title rang a bell, but it didn't quite connect until I'd googled the name. I see the verdict was suicide.

With that in mind, I quite like its concise, pithy phrasing, which evokes a bleak mindset quite well.

But, for me, there's not much in terms of expression which is poetic, and s2 smacks to me of cod philosophy. Only a personal view, of course.

I like s1 quite a bit though - strong start, though 'hid' might work better in its conventional form.

Cheers
peter

[cynwulf]

I appreciated this (enjoyed is hardly an appropriate word here) as a succinct account of a mind at the end of its tether, but couldn't see any but the most tenuous connexion to the very specific title. I agree with the previous comment on 'was hid', a jolt of archaism which breaks the flow of the stanza. Perhaps 'heat of the night' is also a touch cliché-ish.
Regards, C.