loast foam from our chasting limbs,
algae hums velour, houring out the
rations, left guessing our
principal'd passions. 'o now lastly
damped through the soggy blonde
body I've left ravaged. I drag the gowns
from a lowly lake, learnt two years of lessons
in little than six minutes. Piling them on top,
a gown for each of my gorging, i've eaten
lustful cottons and inside my gut there
it has gotten stuck and born from that
there was guilt and my damning.

a bee on a leaf, stinging it unrelenting,
saw it and i thought, was the bee
or the leaf me? stuck in the green, pulled off
both wings, i crawled to the edge, and it hung
like it was drowning, down to the next leaf, where
it died under it's sampling.

watered left for us, a palance left for swimming,
and now i've got none, because she left
willing. Pleast from my feasting, I turned and
to this silence I begged, for forgiveness, not to god,
or her, I guess Appleton, de Pere, Milwaukee, born
an address and left thinking of her, but now as i
sit and wait here, she stirs and I am drawn again, back to
the beginning, where for once I wasn't lonely.
you impress me more often than not.

are you from anywhere around de pere? its like 2 minutes from me.
You impress me more often than not as well, but this one didn't. It felt too much. There's so much gratuitous verbiage here that it gets difficult and fiddly and clumsy a lot. Also, you have a habit of coming off as pretentious. Not always, but this piece especially, the tone and writing style really hit me as overly pretentious. I didn't believe you, I didn't connect to you, and by the end I just didn't really care anymore, which is sad, because I feel I should. Your style works, most of the time. Here, it didn't. At least not for me anyway.