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18+ Violence Mature Content

Negative 02

by LordStar


Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for violence and mature content.

i. During:

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening.

ii. When It’s Over:

Get up.

Get.

Up.

Walk.

Walk fast.

Hood up. Eyes down.

Torn t-shirt hidden beneath zipped up jacket.

Walk and walk and walk

until you get home.

You don’t let yourself think

until you get home.

You sleep

a dreamless sleep.

iii. The Morning After:

Wake up.

Cold shower.

Three cups of coffee, two Monster Energy Drinks,

tea you let get cold before you dump it out.

No drugs.

God dammit,

no drugs.

You haven’t cried yet.

You wonder what is wrong with you.

iv. Scrolling On Social Media:

“Boys will be boys”.

Bill Cosby joke,

“Innocent until proven guilty.”

Bill Cosby joke,

Bill Cosby joke,

a post by your father

calling people like you

deserving sluts;

Bill Cosby joke,

Bill Cosby joke.

There may be no drugs in you

but your wrists have bled

for the first time in years.

v. Three Days After:

You want to tell someone.

You need to tell someone.

About the way you can’t

leave your house anymore,

not without your entire body shaking

and feeling like you’re on the verge

of either tears or a panic attack or both.

You need to tell them

of the way your hands tremble

so hard you can’t hold a pen or a fork,

and your nerves are on fire,

and you need to tell them

about the kiss mark shaped bruises

on your soul

but you open your mouth and no sound comes out.

Once again, you are a coward.

No wonder it happened;

they always prey on the weak.

vi. What Now?

You throw the torn up shirt

into the rubbish bin

and you try to wash the sour taste of

him

from your mouth;

no matter how hard you scrub your tongue

(and its hard enough the bristles turn red),

you can’t forget the dirtiness

that coats your cheeks like grime.

The inside of your skin hurts,

and you’re not sure

the bruises on your body will fade -

the mark they left

surely won’t.

You write a poem, telling yourself

it’s coping, telling yourself that

day by day you are getting through it,

coming to terms,

that writing about it and crying about it

will somehow change the fact that it happened.

vii. The Reasoning:

You look into the mirror

and vomit into the sink;

no wonder he picked you,

special one,

no wonder it was your turn

to be wounded;

those predators,

with their beady eyes

and the bottle in their hand,

their knives to your throat

and their intentions clearer

than the starry night sky,

they always go for the weak.

It’s more of a game, you see,

no bucks to be shot

or pelts to be harvested;

the entire score

is based upon

maiming,

upon taking what they want

and leaving bits and pieces,

splintered bones in your heart

and teeth marks

in the concave of your neck,

and they lap up your tears

and laugh because the taste

is salty-sweet.

viii. The Aftermath

The sound of your begging

will remain the backdrop of your heartbeat

for your entire life now,

roaring like the blood in your ears,

an ever-constant drumming

reminding you not of what was lost

but what was taken,

what was ripped from you

and swallowed whole

so one could claim himself victorious

in this sick, sick game.

It will remain an eternal hum,

buzzing in your brain,

and you will spend the rest of your life

trying to drown it out.


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63 Reviews


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Wed Jan 16, 2019 5:58 am
AvantCoffee wrote a review...



Right, I decided to review this since it would be a shame not to~

What first caught my eye was the structure of this intense poem of yours. The short lines and lack of space between each of the eight parts added to the restlessness and uncertainty of time, as if all of the trauma is being funnelled down the page – time flowing into time so that it's hard to distinguish when one day begins and another ends. I found this really effective, and rather interesting, since it gives a jolted, time-skip, mind blank element to the poem instead of an easy transition. The reader experiences the same fragmented coping response as the speaker of the poem. The structure is probably one of my favourite aspects of the poem, because it lends itself so well to the content.

I'll be breaking down the poem by addressing each part in order. c:

i.
This beginning is absolutely shocking in the best of ways. There is no gentle introduction into the poem, only the title "During" and a repeated phrase that sinks in line-by-line until it slams with realisation. Oof. More than oof. I mentioned this in the WFP, but your did well with capturing the emotions of each stage as the poem progresses. c:

The repetition feels unconventional, yet the words are not, and I'm fighting myself over whether I would suggest any change here. On one hand, it's straight to the point; there are no poetics here, and there hardly would be in that represented moment. On the other, it seems a little basic; even though it impacts, I kind of saw that repeated phrase coming.

*contemplates*

I like the way it is, I really do, and it's almost like "if it ain't broke, don't fix it", so I'm going to pretend not to suggest anything. Don't change anything. It's great.

(However, I did have this thought that you could maybe try contrasting/juxtaposing each repeated phrase with scattered details of what is actually happening, which could look something like...

This isn’t happening.
_____________________(sticky breath; crawling spider hands)
This isn’t happening.
_____________________(crawling everywhere, between; unzipping)
This isn’t happening.

[bad example but y'know]

... which could give this first part some conflict/tension, but could also diminish the oof of sinking realisation – which is why I'm so clearly unsure. It's also what you feel comfortable with. I'm approaching this from a review standpoint, not so much from a personal one like my comment before. <3)

Wow okay I need to move on from this first part. xD

ii.
Even though the language of this part is also basic, it works. Really well. Especially because it differs to the more poetic language in later parts. I love the last two lines of sleeping a dreamless sleep – that idea captures a lot to me.

iii.

tea you let get cold before you dump it out.

This line right here sold me on this part. I feel like it speaks volumes about the state of the speaker, more than inner monologue could communicate. I almost wished this third part had more of this type of symbolic action/environment.

Again, the abruptness of each short line puts me straight into the mindset of the poem's speaker. It's all happening so close, and it makes the poem delicate to read, absorbing, which is fantastic.

iv.
I really like the repetition integrated with quotes integrated with the father. All these views are coming at each other from different angles, creating this feeling of turmoil that the speaker is caught in the middle of. I think you handled the placement of each line terrifically. c:

There may be no drugs in you

but your wrists have bled

for the first time in years.

This to me is the outcome of the turmoil, which is an appropriate way to conclude this part, yet the new topic of drugs/wrists/bleeding seems out-of-place with everything that came before. How does this ending topic relate to the title "Scrolling On Social Media"? I feel like the above lines could be linked more with the rest of this part.

v.
One of the best qualities of part five is how it transitions subtly from the basic language that dominated the first half of the poem to more creative, image-heavy language. The progression makes a lot of sense as time wears on and the shock lessens. Images creep in.

vi.
(and its hard enough the bristles turn red),

Ouch ouch ouch ouch. >_< Red is a less poetic word to put here. It depends on what you're going for, but you could swap it with a more imaginary hue of red if you wanted stronger detail. Not scarlet, though, 'cause that's too expected.

that coats your cheeks like grime.

I love this comparison to grime! It's so vivid and *shudders*.

vii.
My favourite part (or second favourite, because part eight is also amazing).

no wonder he picked you,

special one,

no wonder it was your turn

to be wounded;

This freaking gutted me. My heart broke at "special one".

and their intentions clearer

than the starry night sky,

This comparison – with the starry sky line – didn't seem to relate with the rest of the poem. It's an interesting contrast, though~

It’s more of a game, you see,

Every line from this one and beyond gripped me and maimed me and kept me hovering on the edge. I feel like I'm describing this poem so dramatically lol, but it really is impactful. These later lines are so meaningful and ache bitterly, and the imagery is the cause of that.

viii.
If I wasn't already sobbing internally, I sure as hell am now. The whole poem is (naturally) very emotionally driven; because of this it would have been easy to go off on tangents, but you kept the poem – including this final part – progressing purposefully overall, and that's super neat. There's so much sound in this last part, with the begging/heartbeat/roaring/drumming/ripping/humming/buzzing, and it sums up the accumulation of all the parts, the layers, as this overwhelming experience. The final two lines are perfect.

And that's that. This is a very real, very tragic, and well put together poem. I hope my review was helpful in some way, Oli. Keep 'em poems coming! ;3

— Coffee




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265 Reviews


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Reviews: 265

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Tue Jan 15, 2019 2:30 pm
Liberty says...



This poem of yours, Clouldkid, actually made exactly two tears spill from my eyes. And of that was your goal then you did well! This was a very emotional poem that I can FEEL. You wrote this poem out so well that I could FEEL your pain (Is that creepy? I think that's creepy...).

~Liberty500




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64 Reviews


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Tue Jan 15, 2019 2:00 am
Aliceinhorrorland wrote a review...



Hallo! I’m here to review this! Okay so I actually really like this poem, and I feel like you threw a lot of emotion and effort into this poem. Which makes me automatically like it. The only critique I have is I think it was a little long for a poem, and I wish it were a few lines shorter. But it doesn’t have to be. I can’t really think of much else.. You are really good at creating poems, and I really mean that. Your poem didn’t rhyme but still for the most part it flowed, overall, fantastic job! I hope to see more of your work!!


~CAKEEEEEE~ (sorry that this review was kind of short, love the poem!)





In short, Mrs. Pontellier was beginning to realize her position in the universe as a human being, and to recognize her relations as an individual to the world within and about her.
— Kate Chopin, The Awakening