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Kaoru

Member Elite

since 2003-06-07

Posts 3892
where the wild flowers grow

0 posted 2003-08-23 12:30 PM

Everytime that
I breathe..

Ribs
  pulse
    aching

And I require
a vial of
vanity.

   dirty
mirror
   faulty
wings.

Angel, oh,
angel tap the vein.

Merely
scratched the surface..

scratch

untill
it

   bleeds.

[This message has been edited by Kaoru (08-23-2003 01:03 AM).]

green_itchy_stuff
Senior Member

since 2003-06-26

Posts 1929
New Caney, Tx

1 posted 2003-08-23 12:51 PM

I liked this. Did you mean vile or vial though. If you meant vile that puts a bit of twist in it but it certainly doesnt take away from the content of the poem. Just a little abstract. Addition!

GIS

a trickle of music from a well
let it spill and roar like hell!

{Lord knows Im a VOODOO CHILD}-JIMI

Kaoru

Member Elite

since 2003-06-07

Posts 3892
where the wild flowers grow

2 posted 2003-08-23 01:04 AM

ooh, I changed it. My mind must've been in the wrong place. Thanks!

SharaRose
Member Elite

since 2003-07-19

Posts 2501
Somewhere out there~

3 posted 2003-08-23 01:21 AM

Wow....Ouch! There's no mistaking this.. Not at all. Those gut-wrenching times that you wish would go, and come again another day if ever at all. This strikes a chord of days you definately wish would find its way away from you, and never return to haunt. Good one!!!

SharaRose @-->--

Of sound, and speech let all lift the hearer!

blackhalo
Member

since 2000-02-15

Posts 467
Denver, CO

4 posted 2003-08-23 01:43 AM

Very dark and mind numbing.
"dirty
mirror
   faulty
wings."
Jumped out at me in a million ways.  I loved this!
~Alicia

littlewing
Member Rara Avis

since 2003-03-02

Posts 9655
New York

5 posted 2003-08-23 01:41 PM

Meg - actually you had a nice wordplay there:

vile - vial
vial of vanity, vile - as in it repulses you - the image . . .

I adore these lines:

dirty
mirror
faulty
wings.

look deeper . . .
xxoo

eor
Senior Member

since 2002-09-26

Posts 959
blues & greys

6 posted 2003-08-24 11:15 PM

Meg, Wow!
very intense, i could actually feel myself scratching,
"Everytime that
I breathe..

Ribs
pulse
aching"

"Breathing feels like a foregin task"

Great write

"in a past life i was a woodcarver's knife: the sharpend blade of a wood cutter, the eldest son of the chief's brother: a maker of drums"

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