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playing goddess
| Critical Analysis #1 |
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playing goddess |
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Elizabeth Cor Senior Member
since 2000-10-13
Posts 879Over the river and through the woods 
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This is the very first draft of a piece I'm still working on. All thoughts and criticisms are welcome. Thanks! ~Beth Where I am god, my pictures alter soft candle light, pedestal my prettiest poses. Black outlines a perfect profile and everything tells you, Oh, yes, this is me. I give you poetry and prose, the perfect paragraphs, share my mundane philosophies with final impeccable words. I draft myself sexy, super-sharp: legs and brains, the ultimate wet dream. But in the afternoon, waiting tables I morph to some non-evident mute. As my famous Ex-boyfriend (Megan's personal demigod) flattered me with: "You cannot speak as quickly as your mind works" Oh, doesn't that explain all the fumbling, doesn't that explain why Asshole left me? Entirely because I couldn't draw out the adequate map of my head through my lips; Instead, scrawled some rough first grade X and dotted lines (with black and red crayons). It was not my fault. I only needed Michaelangelo to collaborate with Meriweather to paint my temple for the world. I am Americanized. I am young. I am invincible, fantastic, I should be loved for what I am, and **** the World for its misunderstanding, for their disbelieving that I am the twentysomethings' midnight goddess: Perfect skin and flair, Clever, liberal beauty with golden chestnut hair Who sparkles her angel light only to the fancy of blank typeface people, computer-composed. God, when I am in their semi-realm, how Elizabeth shines. I can posts my emotions with Sybil screen names: Beth is delicateandmelancholy Beth is her_laugh_is_infectious Beth is Hard_Cor (ha ha) Beth is lizzacreature My vice, my holy secret (shut instantly with the carpet thud of footsteps on the stairs) I am the closet addict of illusory rooms… I must type myself remarkable I must redeem my real life with these cut and paste conversations of wannabe intellects. I will seek them out nightly and hang them on my every word. I write myself mysterious… And I can be a ***** if I want, I can act freely and not worry of consequence Here the outside world has so serving, no one will exit home and turn to say "Honey, someone was SO rude to me today on Yahoo!" We are involuntarily accepting in our sub-reality, Because we can create the chaos we fear outside of the box, We open the bits of our souls too scared or drained to unsheathe themselves in daylight. We become the impossible transients, escaping corporeal bonds, and transcend. 10 o 'clock, night settles unto its haunches. I sit in sickly blue and push -- with the anticipation of prom night, with the boredom of study hall -- the dull gray box (holding every universe I dare to create) "Start Chatting". |
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