Snowdance

Sweat glistens on your porcelain
crystallising in the chill, you are the ice queen,
and you looked better in the darkness -

you tasted better in the darkness

that your eyes now pierce chartreuse
as they dilate in the shape of sickly smiles.
Razorblades; laughing; gleaming.
They are everywhere.

But you are nowhere to be found.

I can smell the poison on your breath
and feel the sleety grip of your fingers
on my wrists as you lead me upwards.

Your stumbling echoes on the staircase.

The sheets dance around the bed like spectres
to the rhythm of an open window.
You will dance with them,
and be charred by the fluorescents.

Charcoal black like the depths of your throat.

My pride festers there like an infection
amidst the stench of your oesophagus.
He sleeps there in the warm darkness.

While I sleep on razorblades and ice.

Alone and cold and shivering.
Your love has turned my skin cerulean,
while it gives him shelter from my rage
and the electricity in my fists

I hope you choke on his name.

I hope his touch blisters your porcelain;
I hope his breath corrodes your lungs.
I hope that his eyes burn holes in your skin
like my cigarettes dream of.

And I hope he can bring you happiness.

He can let you dance with the ghosts
and lie naked in the snow for eternity.

He can watch your blood rot sapphire
and distil to static in your veins.

He can help you beat your addiction
to this oxygen;
your fear of this hourglass;
your hatred of your own consciousness.

So chain my lead heart to your ankles and
dive into his ocean.

I’ll watch you drown to death in your ecstasy.

Line by line review.

-------

Sweat glistens on your porcelain - Does not make sense.

crystallising in the chill, you are the ice queen, - Poor word choice, fresh line after comma?

and you looked better in the darkness - This means ugly I hope you know.



you tasted better in the darkness - Ugly still.



that your eyes now pierce chartreuse - Forced word choice ruins your flow.

as they dilate in the shape of sickly smiles. - Sense errors again.

Razorblades; laughing; gleaming. - Clarity please.

They are everywhere.



But you are nowhere to be found.



I can smell the poison on your breath

and feel the sleety grip of your fingers - Word choice again.

on my wrists as you lead me upwards.



Your stumbling echoes on the staircase.



The sheets dance around the bed like spectres - Do I even want to ask?

to the rhythm of an open window.

You will dance with them,

and be charred by the fluorescents. - I so don't want to know...



Charcoal black like the depths of your throat. - Got touchy over soul?



My pride festers there like an infection - 'an' ruins flow. 'Pride, my festering infection'

amidst the stench of your oesophagus. - Aside from spelling... this is getting kinda old.

He sleeps there in the warm darkness.



While I sleep on razorblades and ice.



Alone and cold and shivering.

Your love has turned my skin cerulean, - word choice

while it gives him shelter from my rage - WORD CHOICE

and the electricity in my fists - WORD CHOICE



I hope you choke on his name.



I hope his touch blisters your porcelain; - Again with this?

I hope his breath corrodes your lungs.

I hope that his eyes burn holes in your skin

like my cigarettes dream of. - Bleak, but shallow.



And I hope he can bring you happiness.



He can let you dance with the ghosts

and lie naked in the snow for eternity.



He can watch your blood rot sapphire

and distil to static in your veins. - Losing form here.



He can help you beat your addiction

to this oxygen;

your fear of this hourglass;

your hatred of your own consciousness.



So chain my lead heart to your ankles and

dive into his ocean. - Excuse me, but what!?



I’ll watch you drown to death in your ecstasy.

----------

I thought the first part was necrophilia, I mean seriously. I thought you were getting it on with a dead body and loving it. Then it just sounds like you just want to do it, so you knocked the object of affection out, and proceed to rape? Issues much?

Aside from word choice and double meanings I am not sure whether I got the story right... sure seems like it goes from fantasy to rape. <.<

I really, don't know what to make of that-- and that's not a compliment.

To me, it's like what light waves do. They diffract. That's what the poem did, it seemed to go from one thing, and start going into another thing but just shot off in a random direction which made it odd sounding.

hahahha

I swear I'm no necrophiliac.

- or a rapist for that matter.


this is just bitterness, innocent bitterness - that is all.

It was not meant for an audience, so clarity was always going to be an issue.

But LOL at interpretation

i liked it. of course, the fact that "girls suck" kinda hurt me a little, but im getting past that.
on the first line, i think you should add at the end "skin" or something of the like...its not a very clear openning.
the "i hope he can bring you happiness" is....its a change of what you've been saying. It sounds like youre saying she enjoys pain (or something of the like), so when he's hurting her, you hope that she's happy. Its confusing.
i love the "While I sleep on razorblades and ice" line. That was probably one of my favorite lines.
Is this supposed to be a freeverse style poem?
on the 2nd to last line, is it supposed to be "his"? or is it supposed to be "this"? I think either way it can work.
this was an amazing poem. keep it up

that your eyes now pierce chartreuse
as they dilate in the shape of sickly smiles.
Razorblades; laughing; gleaming.
They are everywhere.

• The word "That" to start the stanza is awkward because it doesn't have any connection to the previous stanzas nor the following stanza lines.
• I suggest reforming the line to look like this:
"Now your eyes, a pierce chartreuse,
dilate in the shape of sickly smiles."
• This brings on another concern. That is, that the two lines sound awkward because the syllable pattern has no relationship whatsoever. That is the second thing I tried changed about the first two lines. That way they are closer together. But I'll leave it to you to figure out exactly how you'd like it, if you choose to remold it of course.

Your stumbling echoes on the staircase.

• Try "stumbles." Because you're getting out of your present participle. If you wanted to keep stumbling you'd need to say
"Your stumbling echoed on the staircase."

The sheets dance around the bed like spectres
to the rhythm of an open window.
You will dance with them,
and be charred by the fluorescent.

• What fluorescent. Fluorescent is an adjective. Adjectives can rarely become nouns.

And I hope he can bring you happiness.

• Saying this seems a bit oxymoronic, no?

---

One. Girls do not suck. Nope, non, null, nein. That's... mean.
The title doesn't fit the poem at all. The poem uses eloquence and style while "Girls Suck" is just blunt and stupid.
I do think that you should incorporate a more serious iambic pentameter. If this is kept in check, than this poem would come to life.
Speaking of coming to life, this poem seems a bit choppy. That's mainly because of lack of interest towards the syllable pattern. Try to keep, overall, the same amount of syllables in each line.

That wasn't a bad poem. It was the the typical "My girlfriend dumped me, so shoot me," poem but that's alright, seeing it more than once, more than a billion. I like seeing the different ways people portray themselves.

So, that's it. Overall, I did like this poem. Good work and I hope my criticisms helped.

Peace, Love and Sugar Packets~
Forever Threnody

The fact that I'm a chick sorta ruined the moment for me in this but all-in-all, it was a pretty good poem.

Some of it wasn't making a great deal of sense but there were always parts were it was really interseting to read.

crystallising in the chill

What is this supposed to mean???

lol, your writting rocks man, I like it

Could I bother you to explain the poem's meaning for me? I thought it was fairly clear but reading the others' opinions got me curious as to what your thoughts were. Care to share them or no?
Nitpick: I agree that "girls suck" doesn't do anything for this poem. It sounds stupid and immature while the poem is beautiful and very mature indeed!
Un-nitpick: "Porcelin". I love it and would encourage you to keep it if that's the way you wanna swing it because I think it works. It is a little odd but that might be why I like it.
It was bitter--almost frighteningly so (I hope you got those feelings out by writing this.) but there was this cynical beauty to it that you captured picturesquely. I don't usually like these sorts of things but I loved this poem.
Darkly maniacal.
You say you're 15?