an untitled short

[thefallofRome]

this is a really short read, but i've always been interested in what people might think of something i wrote while i was high or intoxicated. so, here's me on coke:




words collapse on your lips, mid-kiss; I am intoxicated with the fall, and you realize that you can not be a poem. your eyes are too dark and there's too much bad faith. the world breaks. we were going to go to the sea yesterday, but days can unravel, just like you can unlove and unsex, uncare and undo everything &me. you want to do to me what the sun does to the fruits during autumntime, but I'm so enraptured by winter, taken under and fallen through; I love the cold more than I love you. what happens now. but hey, I think I was taught this way. I said, so long ago, "please be steady, please be kind," but maybe I spoke too softly. or they chose not to hear. or I only said it to myself, really, in my head. I find it so difficult to sort out my thoughts, as if they're irreversibly embedded into all the wrong places and i can't stand how alone it makes me feel. so I rush towards people, all the wrong people. there's a song in my head but they can't hear it; maybe that's the problem. but most tell me that the song being there in the first place is what's wrong. I can't believe that, that's like letting a part of me die, isn't it.

[Amadeus]

First things first, am I the only one who is worried by a 15 year old who is taking coke?

Secondly, there are some nice lines in here that I feel you could use.

Gareth

[pseud]

No, you're not the only worried one A. Call me a puritan, but...please seek help! I've seen a lot of people messed up by coke.

Anyway, about the poem. There are some great lines, and the structure of this flows very well. It holds together as a cohesive whole, which is not something I thought it would do.

The problem is that I think there are some tonal issues, it risks coming off as anxsty and a bit "woe is me." I'm referring specifically to:

I find it so difficult to sort out my thoughts, as if they're irreversibly embedded into all the wrong places and i can't stand how alone it makes me feel.

Personally, it would be just as interesting to get into the mind of the other person - the "you." What do they feel and think?

I also think the poem really starts at:

you can unlove and unsex, uncare and undo everything &me. you want to do to me what the sun does to the fruits during autumntime, but I'm so enraptured by winter...

And the beginning few sentences detract because they don't make as much sense.

Still, this is writing that shows some promise, even if it needs some editing (and a title).

- Caleb

[thoke]

I agree with pseud's points.

What I think of something you wrote while high or intoxicated: too incoherent to be fully enjoyable, and somewhat pretentious and too angsty in parts. But there is some good stuff here, especially the last few sentences...

so I rush towards people, all the wrong people. there's a song in my head but they can't hear it; maybe that's the problem. but most tell me that the song being there in the first place is what's wrong. I can't believe that, that's like letting a part of me die, isn't it.

I think you've successfully blurted out some decent raw material that you could potentially tidy up and turn into a decent poem. I don't think you should leave it as it is, and I don't think you should throw it away. Imagine that it is a block of stone, and sculpt something out of it.

Ben