#1
My eyelids are afraid of each other.
Anytime they hint at being friends
and snuggle up for the night,
my imagination opens soured milk;
spoiled visions.


---


Bullet into the chamber
and i'm behind the wheel of my car;
its snowing and i'm careening toward
an electric pole.

Oh god.
tense muscles.
Oh God.
prayers.
Oh GOD.
impact.
serenity.

reverse time,
rifle out of the chamber.
I'm standing outside of the car,
watching myself as a ragdoll in a windstorm.
my body spirals out of control.
shatter windshield.
my forehead pastes itself to the pole
(like a magnet to iron)
and I go head beside heels;
wrapping around and around.
I'm like Jello, pudding, paste,
pasta, bread, mashed potatoes.

snap awake.
cold sweat.
no sleep.
#2
First off, I thought that the first stanza was a brilliant and very original way of describing an insomnia-like state, where anytime you are close to sleeping, you begin to have nightmares, and then become wide awake again. I thought that part was very well done.

I'm a little torn as to what I think of the poem in its entirety though. On one hand, I found it extremely interesting that the narrator was dying in some freak accident and then going back to watch him/herself die again in the same accident. The supernatural-ness of that part is really intriguing and forces me to make sense of it. For me at least, it was a powerful image that deserved being analyzed.

However, when it all just became a dream, I kinda felt the rug being swept beneath me. All the supernatural/metaphysical elements that you had going on were lost. I know that you were tying it all in with the first stanza and not being able to sleep and all but I just felt that any momentum that was gained with that powerful scene was lost when the narrator woke up and realized it was just a dream.

That's just my opinion, however. I'm sure many others will find it different.
here, My Dear, here it is
#3
Quote by ZanasCross
My eyelids are afraid of each other.
Anytime they hint at being friends
and snuggle up for the night,
my imagination opens soured milk;
spoiled visions.

This was excellent in both execution and context, it felt almost effortless. Your writing is certainly growing, and this stanza is a great example to that statement.


---


Bullet into the chamber
and i'm behind the wheel of my car;
its snowing and i'm careening toward
an electric pole.

This was good but it was too passive. It certainly added to the story but I believe that this could have been taken developed a bit further; at times it felt uncomfortably ambigious, and not in a good way.

Oh god.
tense muscles.
Oh God.
prayers.
Oh GOD.
impact.
serenity.

Didn't really feel this, I don't know. Like most of your previous religious references, they are quite delicate and can easily become a hit or miss. Here, felt like a miss-I just didn't enjoy how it was read. But by all means leave it there if you feel it plays a key role to the piece.

reverse time,
rifle out of the chamber.
I'm standing outside of the car,
watching myself as a ragdoll in a windstorm.
my body spirals out of control.
shatter windshield.
my forehead pastes itself to the pole
(like a magnet to iron)
and I go head beside heels;
wrapping around and around.
I'm like Jello, pudding, paste,
pasta, bread, mashed potatoes.

I felt that the first stanza should have played out similar to this one. This was good.
I didn't understand the last two lines though; care to elaborate?

snap awake.
cold sweat.
no sleep.

Short and sweet. I don't have anything to add here.


I believe that first stanza speaks for itself. Your subsequent pieces should be more in that vain.

A nice read.
#5
Quote by SubwayToVenus


However, when it all just became a dream, I kinda felt the rug being swept beneath me. All the supernatural/metaphysical elements that you had going on were lost. I know that you were tying it all in with the first stanza and not being able to sleep and all but I just felt that any momentum that was gained with that powerful scene was lost when the narrator woke up and realized it was just a dream.




I guess I thought it was clear from the beginning that it was a dream; and wasn't worried about pulling the rug out from under you. The thing that has always fascinated me about my nightmares is I actually watch myself die in vivid vivid detail. I face it, almost nightly, and each morning wake up to go face the day. That in itself is worth analyzing; at least to me, that in itself is a tragedy.
#6
Quote by ZanasCross
I guess I thought it was clear from the beginning that it was a dream; and wasn't worried about pulling the rug out from under you. The thing that has always fascinated me about my nightmares is I actually watch myself die in vivid vivid detail. I face it, almost nightly, and each morning wake up to go face the day. That in itself is worth analyzing; at least to me, that in itself is a tragedy.


No, it was clear that it was a dream. I totally got that. And after a couple more reads, I think I'm able to appreciate it better. I think I expressed myself poorly: the rug wasn't pulled out from me because I knew it was a dream all along, but I still felt some disappointment in that it was a dream. But on a second and third look, I'm able to see that the way it was executed is the way it should be executed. While I personally still feel the events in the dream more tragic than having dreams of this nature themselves, I'm also not the one having the dreams and haven't experienced their obvious terror. So, in short, I agree with what you said.
here, My Dear, here it is
#8
This grabbed my attention, mainly because I moved out of my bed last night onto the couch after finding a bug in my bed. It seems stupid now that I think about it, but looking back, I don't want to sleep there again any time soon.

Now, foh the crit.

I definitely like the first stanza. It's creative and relatable at the same time, and it just seems effortless in delivery. No comment otherwise except that it's very nice.

The next two...I don't know. Nothing jumps out at all. I would say to take them out, except that they both seem neccessary to transition into the fourth stanza. I just really dislike them. They're bland. Work on some interesting ideas here that could actually grab the attention of the reader in a GOOD way. I've always loved your metaphors, and this is...lacking in such.

The fourth stanza, however, blows away all but the first. It's immense in content, and I just love to read it, both for the vivid imagery, and the almost carefree way you display it. The best bit is the end, where you elaborate almost excessively on what type of food your body resembles. As silly as that sounds.

The last bit...take it out. Sorry, it's just way too anticlimactic, and it could just as easily end on the fourth stanza.

Overall, I love the idea. I love being able to identify with your pieces, although you always seem to project such an extreme sense of hyperbole. But it seems a bit cluttered in spaces. It needs some editing in, fo sho.

Cheers.