The jigsaw pieces blaze through his
permeable eyes, pierced with glassy soul-stars
shoving their way through in bloody tears.
He begs me to disentangle his hopes and dreams which
come forth clotted in gore, he screams for mercy
as I pick his problems free with pliers and
I allow them to shatter at our feet.
Surgerical instruments are strung across my body
and I cry, because he wants to see the future
(because he whispers that I'm beautiful)
but we all know that he's blind.
Well this is quite well but a bit boring because of the last poem I read from you (Transition To Decaf) had almost the same essence. Maybe a little more variation, the word choice is well but the whole story shows a picture I quite know already.
Cheerios, Chandni
xanthan gum wrote:The jigsaw pieces blaze through his
permeable eyes, pierced with glass[s]y[/s] soul-stars
shoving their way through in bloody tears.
He begs me to disentangle his hopes and dreams which
come forth clotted in gore, he screams for mercy
as I pick his problems free with pliers and
I allow them to shatter at our feet.
Surgerical instruments are strung across my body
and I cry, because he wants to see the future
(because he whispers that I'm beautiful)
but we all know that he's blind.
This is a beautiful poem but I found that I didn't quite understand it. I don't know maybe it's just me.
I can't think of anything else to add.
Keep writing!!
Loz
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