Accident

Fingers of blood touch me from where
I lie alone and wasted in a bed of
white roses.

I was not looking for you.
I was not even singing your name.

"I'm done for, I'm done for!" she cries
"This liquor of halogen lights will
rend me till my heart spills despair."

But what of your fluorescent hair,
still gleaming as you retch
vomit against the steering wheel?

What of your body-like membrane,
opening and shutting,
the rhythm of eyelids?

You are the prettiest girl in the world.

Oh, that you should carve effortlessly
such patterns of hatred and joy!

Hmmm....I really don't see what you're getting at here, or where you're coming from with this. Try to extend this and add more detail in it so the reader can see the meaning behind this. I hope ths helps!

-Rick.

Yes... I can imagine this now. I am walking down the street and suddenly someone stops in the middle of the road and says these immortal lines:

"I'm done for, I'm done for! This liquor of halogen lights will rend me till my heart spills despair."

...

I really really really hope you understand how bleeding cheesy that is. I mean... that's worst than a lot of fantasy monologues. That's worst than a lot of bad villain monologues. And that's bad. So I am hoping, really hoping, that this a spoof of a cheesy emo poem. Because it is a cheesy emo poem... it begins with fingers of blood touching the narrator, who is lying alone in a bed of white roses for goodness' sakes! I mean... how cliched of an image can you get?

Stanza four is the best stanza by far in the entire poem, but because it stands alone, it is essentially meaningless, its neat imagery dulled by the rest of the cheesy emo stanzas. If this is intended to be serious, take the idea from stanza four and take out the rest. You can do much better.

thanks for the comments. snoink, not sure what i can say about your comment except i think "emo" is an insulting and poorly defined label. i appreciate your words, though. this poem is about a guy who gets run over by a girl and realizes she will be the last girl he ever sees.

I really felt I was there,
I could picture the whole thing in my mind.
If you keep writing poetry like this it will reach those who can't even write a line of it.

aw, you guys are nice