Love it. Some of it sounds familiar. It's similar to some of your other work as far as the phrasing goes, but who cares? That last line is beautiful too.
I haven't heard the term 'crossfaded' in years. Ah, nostalgia! So, the brown paper bag... booze or huffing? Considering the rest of the poem, it definitely seems like... huffing. Just curious about the intention.
Lightning and ribs... both featured heavily in one of my recent poems too. Strange that they seem to go so well together.
Anyway, I think this is one of the best in the contest so far. Love the first stanza... the whole narrative is really solid... the imagery is off-kilter awesome. The "i know i can trust them to do their best at chipping away" is a bit verbose, but that's the only criticism I have. Tighten the last lines after the contest and it will just be gold, man.
I thought maybe you had something else in mind, actually. That's just... how it read to me. Clearly, the emotion can across just fine because that's what I got out of it too.
I definitely have those moments where if anyone speaks to me, looks at me, or touches me, I feel like ripping their face off. It just... happens sometimes.
Teddy bear gore is superior to all other forms. Yeah, man... chew that bear's face right off. Love it! Honestly, pretty amazing description of those 'everything is technically fine, but I'm agitated so fuck off" moments.
It amazes me the way our lives
move on without us, as though
we're dollhouse pieces tossed
aside once they've had their fill.
Under the moon's watchful eye,
we crumble beneath the weight
of misplaced normalcy, bills on
the counters and a to-do list on
the refrigerator; but we rebuild
ourselves by daybreak, glued
together at the joints and bends.
We bleed a silent resolve, simple
promises to ourselves about
putting one foot in front of the
other and building a protective
cocoon around those we love,
something we never had a
chance to experience firsthand.
Our morality doesn't grab you by
the throat and scream in your face
or disguise itself as something else
under knitted covers and locked
doors. It's a shaky tightrope walk
of balance between good and evil.
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