Young Writers Society

thanks for the critique. after looking this over, this may not be the best work i've ever done, even if it isn't ENTIRELY bad. but i must stress, i have done better. if you want something not so random as this, then check out my Back Alley Sutra, if you haven't already. i think that's one of my better works. but thanks regardless. i actually prefer your version of it than mine. i was kind of wacky when i wrote this one. have a good one.
Pax,
Zalarus

I like it I don't think the ending is weak, it rounds the whole poem off quite well.

It is a little daunting to see so many long lines cluttered together though. Here's my suggestion, but it's up to you.

as i walk down the hallway,
thinking of lonely Dionysian rampages and you,
wishing for a reprieve,
madness to take me,
it comes back again,
like it so often does without you.

the feeling on succubus tears,
the burning the burning,
shouting on a lost record player downtown,
barely heard over New Hampshire radio stations
with aeroplanes and existentialist furor
fucked in joy and during pregnancy,
unforgivable, my love.

and soon the crooning of the lizard king reaches my ears
like some hot dream coming toward me,
a shimmering of keyboards
and unnecessary yet potent shouting matches
with daemons on benzedrine
and spiraling tranquil delight downwards
towards hell, or somewhere else?

i don't know what's going to happen, my angel
but i want us to hold each other
until this shit goes up in flames.

the music, the music rushing furiously
down to the beaches,
perfect and angelic, and blood-high together
and waiting for the rough edges of Time
and Krishna descending from the clouds
to give us our precious tears
on the other side of morning.

mongrels rising with the sun,
obese and cocks pointing northwards
towards some innocent pray.
look at their hyena smile,
their words honeyed and poisoned daggers
stabbing, stabbing, stabbing.

but finally found in these dark woods, we're together in this
so let's stay together,
because this is a road worth traveling.