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"The Final Flower"
A whore for the limelight, with dry eyes
covered by the door her
cries wiped the floorboards before his wide eyes.
And she loved to despise my blurred line of enough,
pulling her damp panties by
her thighs with hands squeezed and cries of 'ENOUGH!'
Her black nails sense old burlesque, as her last tale
still burned in red braille- S.O.S.
written in the scar she carved on his inner back's flail
as we both drenched head to toe in stale sents of sex!
Her flower splits to bloom around his, her lips confuse;
dissects the hour who founded
crying, bleeding, black and blue surrounding a new
dying seedling who was dammed alive to see this!
Placenta imperfect, cuts still burning,
laments have yet to set us up to discuss this yearning!
This lust, this hunger this slut this sloth..
With her lungs short of gust the sails sit propped.
We bathe in our bliss to
learn how to earn this remaining scar tissue;
issue is plainly spit,
adjacent the barbed basement we played in!
And the little lone porch, is a little more placid
with the baskets- babies- rape sheets and umbilical cords!
This home was cut from a different mold,
a different hole, sewn and reopened by a different surgeon-
that bled down the leg of indifferent virgins.
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Re: "The Final Flower"
This piece was good...the rhyme scheme made it flow well and the content's imagery was outstanding...due to discripitive wording...overall for the length of the piece the content was much more than what I expected which made the piece's outcome more than what I predicted..a very well written piece here.....short piece short feed...but good shit..keep it up and RTF...plz..
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Re: "The Final Flower"
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Re: "The Final Flower"
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Re: "The Final Flower"
Her flower splits to bloom around his, her lips confuse;
dissects the hour who founded
crying, bleeding, black and blue surrounding a new
This lust, this hunger this slut this sloth..
With her lungs short of gust the sails sit propped.
great...
i dug the piece, you've got a chaotic consistency with your work
its a melee of imagery, very violent imagery that in my eyes, ends in a sense of numb shock. i didnt really notice a discernable peak, maybe i just read over it too quickly but i dont think it reached a peak. nevertheless i still felt a supreme sense of loss by the end, and the piece was still very good. i enjoyed reading it. pz.
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Re: "The Final Flower"
Better. Still very abstract in a sense, but this was a lot more concise. Some of the word choice I would've changed, but the imagery and the flow was great. I didn't really like the structure at first, but as the story progressed I was feeling it a lot more. It ultimately, became a smooth read as I read it over again. The metaphor of the final flower was real good..and it brings out the polished aspect of your writing: your creativity.
A whore for the limelight, with dry eyes
covered by the door her
cries wiped the floorboards before his wide eyes.
And she loved to despise my blurred line of enough,
pulling her damp panties by
her thighs with hands squeezed and cries of 'ENOUGH!'
Her black nails sense old burlesque, as her last tale
still burned in red braille- S.O.S.
written in the scar she carved on his inner back's flail
^Feeling it.
-Nique
