When Love Consumes All

Constricting white blanket.
No-- jacket. Yes. Straps.
Breathe?

"I can't breathe."

I think of before times when I wasn't so confined to myself.
Think of the taste of his words,
before they turned bitter.
Dream of the light that still lingers.

Him? No. Not him. Don't think of him.
It isn't real. The mind, it plays tricks.
Tricks full of needles and pins and
broken twigs. --A syringe.
Pierce the heart.

Come up for air as it tortures me.
Cry till my lungs crack up blood.
Lie till I'm filled up with hate.
Fight till there's no fight left.
Beauty is mine, and he was anothers.
Breathe?

"I can't breathe."

I sleep till the moment my mind
is awakened.
I dream till the moment the key
is in place.
I yearn for the presence that retrieves me
my sanity.
I wait till he walks in my path.

"Walk the path."

Speak, but no one will hear you,
says the voice that haunts me.
You're too far gone...

Hyperventilating in the smaller corners
of my mind.
Saved by the anti-psychotics
and friendly white.

Shot with adrenaline, my heart finally kicks.
Skip-- breath. Beat --skip.
The pitter patter of a taken soul,
when love consumes all.

Dear SmylinG, I see you have just reviewed mine as I was about to do this, funnily enough I'm going to make the opposite commentary, this piece looks like too much spent has been spent on it, and sounds clever but sometimes doesn't flow.
It's quite a long piece, so let me just give you an idea of what I mean, actually, since your style is dense, you could do with making it shorter, so that it has lots of meaning in very few words.


"Constricting white blanket.
No-- jacket. Yes. Straps.
Breathe?

"I can't breathe."

I think of before times when I wasn't so confined to myself.
Think of the taste of his words,
before they turned bitter.
Dream of the light that still lingers."
this bit is all great

"Him? No. Not him. Don't think of him.
It isn't real. The mind, it plays tricks.
Tricks full of needles and pins and
broken twigs. --A syringe.
Pierce the heart." I don't like the appearance of the syringe here which breaks the kind of stiff dreamy tune of the rest, it's too violent and not romantic enough of an image next to the others. I'm also not convinced by the whole don't think of him stuff, I think the poem explains that on its own.

"Come up for air as it tortures me.
Cry till my lungs crack up blood.
Lie till I'm filled up with hate." This is all a bit too violent I think, tone it down a little so your poem stays whistful rather than wistful then horror film then wistful..
"Fight till there's no fight left.
Beauty is mine, and he was anothers.
Breathe?

"I can't breathe."

I sleep till the moment my mind
is awakened." GREAT
"I dream till the moment the key
is in place.
I yearn for the presence that retrieves me
my sanity." both of these a bit cliché, I think you could cut them altogether and wouldn't loose anythings
"I wait till he walks in my path.

"Walk the path."

Speak, but no one will hear you,
says the voice that haunts me.
You're too far gone...

Hyperventilating in the smaller corners
of my mind.
Saved by the anti-psychotics
and friendly white.

Shot with adrenaline, my heart finally kicks.
Skip-- breath. Beat --skip.
The pitter patter of a taken soul,
when love consumes all."
I think the whole end is fantastic.
flows, original, like the references to medical conditions etc.
feels very organic!

Hope this is helpful, only suggestion, please discuss if you wish to reject etc for my curiosity!
Best,
Velvet
p.s. you might like some of my other more finely tuned pieces better such as "boredom", "is this not love", "oxford on a sunday" more to your taste

Hi, sorry for the small review! A bit pushed for time! I loved this poem. It's clearly been very well thought out - I can tell alot of time and patience has been put into it! Well done!
This was my favorite stanza:

SmylinG wrote:I think of before times when I wasn't so confined to myself.
Think of the taste of his words,
before they turned bitter.
Dream of the light that still lingers.

Brilliant, great work
Thanks,
~Amelia

Vel. Thanks a lot for the review. I can see your points very clearly. I appreciate the kind words and understand your view.

The point of the poem was for the speaker to seem as though she were confined into a schitzophrinic/broken state of mind. That's where the harshness came in. It was meant to sound as though the image of love was consuming to the point of hysteria. It's why the speaker self-questions and speaks to herself. It's why I incorporated both beauty and... -well, not so beautiful imagery and choice of words.

Although, I should have probably made this into a spoiler for everyone to understand. I was just expecting some to get it. But no worries if no one does. It was sort of experimental poetry more or less. I truly appreciate the feedback though. Thank you both. ^-^

I like the fragmented stream of consciousness thing, but I think that it is somehow too confined in itself. Your opening images are striking, it's a very visual piece, actually a good use of parataxis, like a film, telling a story in shots.

"I can't breathe."

I think of before times when I wasn't so confined to myself.
Think of the taste of his words,
before they turned bitter.
Dream of the light that still lingers."
this bit is all great"

I could love or hate this. Suddenly bringing in a more conscious voice, but it is still almost like a film, in fact, referencing itself even more, kind of cool, and even in the imagery you chose their kind of stark architypes, I'm getting like a film noir vibe from it. 'Dream of the light that still lingers' is just so melodramatic, and then you disarm it with 'this bit is all great', that which makes it fantastic.

Him? No. Not him. Don't think of him.
It isn't real. The mind, it plays tricks.
Tricks full of needles and pins and
broken twigs. --A syringe.
Pierce the heart.

I would turn this into a battle between the two voices, the series of images from the first stanza and the self-conscious, self-referential narrator of the second, so for him, it would be purely sensual, the sensory snapshots of him assaulting, the narrator fighting back, maybe going off on tangents, mind over matter, or you know, mind over hormones.

Come up for air as it tortures me.
Cry till my lungs crack up blood.
Lie till I'm filled up with hate.
Fight till there's no fight left.
Beauty is mine, and he was anothers.
Breathe?

I like crack up, it's unexpected, and strangely, "beauty is mine, and he was anothers". I see like femme fatale with a cigarette holder with lipstick smudged on the end, it's kind of staged but it works.

Nope, that's it, I don't like, "I can't breath". It's too considered. Either have the sensation of suffocating or have yourself trying to command your body, as it is, it's kind of half hearted.

hi!!!!!!! i spend a bit too much time in the poetry selection heh....anyways, on with the review!!! must say the only thing i can find off is the title, i think it should be a bit more catchy! i only read because I’m turning into a hopeless romantic!!! XD ha-ha just saying, it's something to remember, and no one's that great at it! even J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the...... bleh! I know my mom only read it because the cover was cool! XD

Hey i think it was a little hard to understand, but I liked it. Just work on your spelling, OK? Oh, and also the reason I am writing so many charectors is cause i want more points. But I LOVED the thingy you did!! BYE!!!