My sh*t

haven't we all.

Great - nice rhythm, yet dark meaning.

They both have the flu now..which is much funnier when you've left home. I could be mean and phone them. They'd have to drag themselves out of bed, coughing up their internal organs in the process, just to hear me tell them I forgot what I was actually calling about.

Anyho, I'm not taking any risks..though knowing me I've just hexed myself big time.

I'll stock up on the lemsip now, I think.

i like this. it took me twice through to get the first line in rhythm but i got it in the end..i must be tired atm. yeah i like the structure. the rhyme is as always natural. you have a great talent. i like the adjectival modifyers the use of them really adds to an overall atmosphere and emotion. this is one that i will show people and say wow...read this.

[u]Jane's Affliction(re-write)/u]

His steely kiss will leave its stain
along her abdomen.
She wipes his lip upon her sleeve,
she hides him in the tin
to nest amongst her valentines
engagement ring and gold
her ruffled notes from Johnathon-
their finger-smudged photo.
She picks at dusty scarlet trails
which run across her chest
dabs dettol on her lighter burns
'till blood seeps through her dress.
For now, she has a new lover
he slides towards her vein
and in her empty room, they hide
a razor blade and Jane.

It was mainly in response to feedback I got from another forum. Http://www.everypoet.com Have a look It's the best critical poetry forum, there is.

I re-worked it so it was more concrete throughout, with less repitition of established ideas, less gothic cliched sentimmentality and more about Jane and her razor blade. Her self-harm and the reasons behind it. I could easily have just used she all the way through, but I thought specific names would give the piece a more voyeuristic feel, as if the reader's experiencing something private. Something intimate. So they feel for a minute, just slighty unsettled.

I don't know if it's any better now? As this is still the only place I've posted it.

Schizophrenic aviators

Sunlight pools and suicide
sugar cane and cyanide
drinking tea in coffee shops
with fancy f*cking names

finding light, or lighting fires
Wedding nights or funeral pires
drinking whiskey, shot-glass, cocked
let's dash bad brain away

talking walls, or silent pills
injections and rejecting thrills
until we're forced, fed, knocked out, back
normality for a while

shaven head and ten foot beards
We're popular, c*nts, we're god, we're weird
we're wired into the matrix
and we're f*cking superman

we're clarke kent and we're lois lane
we're batman, lex, sadam hussein
who talks to f*cking flowers
and has names for all his eyes.

we're broken toys, we're raggy dolls
on button moon, in rabbit holes
whilst eating fish and smoking razors
schizophrenic avaiators.

schizophrenic aviators
armed with different thought behaviours
drinking tea in coffee shops
with fancy f*cking names

It reminds me of that bloke. That poetry bloke. it's reminicent of him.