It's more emotional than I let on, I mean re approach the subject with something more dramatic, right now, it's just whatever this is.


In The Eyes Of Her Children They Saw Nothing But Misfortune and She Looked At Them And Saw Golden Eggs

"High class shit, never mind it's always
hit or miss." Right now there are
three types of people naming their
children in the hospital wing,
One's the woman who believes
that every little note out of her pitch
perfect throat is a song or a poem.
She wraps her arms around
whatever little hope she birthed from
her sloppy little hole. I can't
claim to be a kid anymore, my
beard and my dick say otherwise,
but all my insecurities are like the hot
Stepford Wives they're all the same and
they'll never change. I've never
been a werewolf but I know how
it is to become an animal,
I'm adorable, with the emotional
capacity of a four year old
but when it comes to eating
I eat like I'm a cannibal.

I think when I used to talk beautiful,
landscapes of words that would flow
ethereal. I can't wish to be that credible
anymore, North Carolina never looked like
such a wasteland in the past, my mind looks
to the future and sees girls hugging glasses,
full of breast milk. I hold on dearly to the memories
of the deceased, the badges on my lapel and
the lips inside my cheek. We recount what we
love and are defined by who we care for, moving
on to the throne of silver stars, I lost what
I was there for.

Here we mourn the death of Papaw Vernon, and
every tooth he lost scavenging for drunk
women in an attempt to reform his past into
something he could live with. I can't calculate
how many men pass their chances by grabbing
their cocks and wishing to the moon, never
picking up a pen to write what they thought,
never grabbing a camera to show what they
shot. I can't imagine being so hum-ho about life,
that whenever opportunity arises you feel wrong and
it's not anymore important that another morning
hard on.

So I laid in a hotel, hoping she'd come
over and cup my balls with her that wistful grin,
It's just sad when I look out my window and see
nothing, no face to grab at, not a smile to call vapid,
it's just a black sky with no stars. I turn over, snoring
louder than ever, and she throws a piece of paper at the
back of my head, "Sleep on your stomach." I want to
crack her bleached blond smile. She'll go down
on a casting director if the chance pops up, a job
becomes a lifeline and everyone behind her is
wondering when the shy girl turned into a
egomaniac. She'll have Tom Cruise's baby if it
meant being someone, maybe. I can't complain
I'd do the same thing too, with a dick in
each hand and one in my mouth, I'd smile and
think to myself, "Mom, I made it."

I liked it, especially the middle two paragraphs. The genitalia references were a bit crude, but I suppose that's intended.

That's all, I guess. Sorry I didn't go more in depth, I'm not really good at this stuff anymore.
Hey Matt.

This was definitely bursting with emotion. It really read with purpose and meaning, it didn't seem weak or flakely written in a half-arsed way.

I'll ignore your sometimes odd punctuation for fear of repetition of previous posts in your thread.

I think talking about "three types of people" and never clearly defining them all (from what I gathered anyway), it felt like you had written that line with the direction of explaining them all but you never did. Just kind of left it hanging. Also, the first stanza sort of starts with this directness (the previously mentioned line up to "I can't claim") At that point in then seemed to go a bit ego-centric and I think it gave it a bit of a mixex opening. The lingering thought of these two other sort of people was there, but then you started talkng about yourself and insecurities and I ammost felt as if it was a bit selfish, not giving much to the reader. At that point I was kind of wanting it to get back on track with how the opening lines started.

The second stanza did the whole personality thing much better. Probably because it was seperatee from the opening ideas and that gave it it's own space.

Like I said, the emotion really captivated in a good way, and the ending was made all the stronger because of that. It defintiely made the piece for me.

If you could have a look at the latest one in my sig? I'd appreciate your words. Thanks if you can.
I speak about the three people, just in a more non-linear way.

In fact I actually speak about four people if you include the girl at the end, the people turn out to be

the woman giving birth
and the girl at the end.

so there you go.

and I get off work at 10, i'll check yours out then.
It felt very lacking towards the end. I meen there was a lot of substance and many wonderful references, but I think the 'no-linear' way of describing the three people didn't do the piece justice. It felt like you had a solid thesis, and just kind of let it drift. Maybe it is just me though, who knows? Overall I greatly enjoyed it, a nice piece of work. Just needs a little more focus I think. Could you take a look at mine? https://www.ultimate-guitar.com/forum/showthread.php?t=841765
Quote by ottoavist

i suppose there's a chance
i'm just a litte too shallow to consider
that maybe i've been a little more eager
each day to wake up and take a shower
brush my teeth and smile for the mirror
Quote by Something_Vague
I speak about the three people, just in a more non-linear way.

In fact I actually speak about four people if you include the girl at the end, the people turn out to be

the woman giving birth
and the girl at the end.

so there you go.

and I get off work at 10, i'll check yours out then.

Cool. On a second read I made much more sense of the narrative than I previously did.

However, I did think it kind of detracted abit, like Nick said.