Broken Backs

Is it enough to feel?

Waking up flat-backed in the woodwork of my coffin,
and I can smell that you were here.
After bleeding from the sides where you used to touch me,
I begin to taste your meal in my blood.
The clinking of what I thought were church bells
belong to your darling doll's dinner and
the unsheathed gentleman's fork and spoon.

I only wish I had been rare or
well-done.

Woah, I've never read anything like that before. Very good use of imagery! I did think that "I begin to taste your mean in my blood" didn't make much sense, but other than that, I liked it a lot.

maybe it's my intelligence, but i don't understand this poem in the slightest. and thats not a good thing with poetry, theres no point in writing anything if its not understood by a universal audience.

you use good imagery throughout the piece, whether i understood the meaning or not. i liked the dark tone used throughout, and an excellent use of alliteration.

This poem is kind of... not up to your usual high standards.

I like this line:

"After bleeding from the sides where you used to touch me,"

Mostly because that invokes religious imagery. And I see the vampire connection, but all in all, I think it's a little overdone. You don't seem to connect the vampire imagery with the Christ imagery, and that's kind of weird.

... hah. Yeah. Nice critique.

With that said, I want to point out something that I've noticed in a lot of your poems:

Waking up flat-backed in the woodwork of my coffin,

I notice that you start your poems with an "ing" verb most of the time. Try varying it a little. I don't know. Maybe I'm too much of a fiction writer, but doing that in fiction, especially a lot, is a big no-no, and seeing it here makes me flinch a little.