the endless blockade

[Atti]

she inhales until the gut of her lungs
can taste the glass;
she drinks so deep
that she surfaces
in shallow waves on separate continents
just before collapsing into the shore
- desperate for affection.

she's going to die like this-
a destroyer.

her heart has consumed every thing
it's every tried to love

and she wasn't raised with a backbone
thick enough to shield her heart
from the ricochet
of two overactive shoulder blades

so she gives in to pity
since it's the only thing that lasts
- she sobs
so hard that her inhales
become the sea
and she it

each breath another chest
of sea
soaked in midnight

she continues until
she's had so much to drink
off her own body of shame
she can't see the pain.

she's going to die like this-
and no one remembers a drunk.

she's been writing
these suicide notes for years
and setting them adrift in the bottles she's emptied
inside herself

a novel of a woman
and every love she's every lost.

she swallows hard

and looks into the sky-

the ocean sleeps alone tonight.

[TheIllyricist]

she inhales until the gut of her lungs
can taste the glass;
she drinks so deep
that she surfaces
in shallow waves on separate continents
just before collapsing into the shore
- desperate for affection.

You have a real talent for those first two lines. A strong introduction is almost necessary to be hook me. Great poems will sink into the reader and pull them into the rabbit hole, place them behind bars, or lift them to the sky. Whatever it be that person wants to do. I felt like I'm there in those two lines. That simple execution of tipping a glass upwards for a drink. That metaphor of the ocean. Her drinking consumes her like the rising tides...

she's going to die like this-
a destroyer.

Nice, short. To the point. She will die with that drink tilted upwards, and the poison sinking through her body. The destructive substance filtering in and changing her into the destroyer as well. Good tone setting as well.

her heart has consumed every thing
it's every tried to love

Typo on every which I assume meant to be 'ever'. Minor thing! Typos are easily fixed. May not be the most original of lines there has ever been. However, I liked your word choice of 'consumed'. It was very apt in this case. Her heart has consumed, and destroyed.

and she wasn't raised with a backbone
thick enough to shield her heart
from the ricochet
of two overactive shoulder blades

I get a 'heart on her sleeve' type of a vibe here. Not strong enough to shield her heart, or not cold enough to protect herself from the hurting others inflict upon her. Ricochet of two overactive shoulder blades... I'm really intrigued and in love with that phrase. I've read it as bumped shoulders, 'cold shoulder'... Not strong enough to deal with the pain when someone does that to her. The hurting is severe, and the loneliness; worse.

so she gives in to pity
since it's the only thing that lasts
- she sobs
so hard that her inhales
become the sea
and she it

And thus she gives into self pity. You always have a way with good transitions as I have seen so far from one stanza to the next. You've continued the story. She becomes her sea of sorrows and it becomes very real in my view of drinking alcohol to blanket the hurt that has been done. Inhales it so much it has take over her life.

each breath another chest
of sea
soaked in midnight

Chest. I read chest as the place where the heart is. Soaked in midnight, soaked in darkness. This serves as another good bridge over to our next stance coming.

she continues until
she's had so much to drink
off her own body of shame
she can't see the pain.

As we all do from time to time when things become too much. Blinded from the pain, perhaps passed out from too much or even blacked out. Also, numb.

she's going to die like this-
and no one remembers a drunk.

Sad thought of an ending, yet true in its own way. No one remembers a drunk, but they should. There is a sea of stories and pain worth taking a look at.

she's been writing
these suicide notes for years
and setting them adrift in the bottles she's emptied
inside herself

Clever wording and it feels so, so real. It feels like this topic is one that is important to you. Her suicide notes might not be written on a pad of paper, but they are written by her actions and the bottle is her pen.

a novel of a woman
and every love she's every lost.

Another 'ever' typo on the second 'every'. Unless it's intentional, which I suppose could be the case. Just getting typos out of the way first. Her pain could fill a novel, and the tales her drinking could tell as well. This is a unique way of going about this. I appreciate all of your imagery. I just wonder if 'every love she's ever lost' could be worded better. I wonder if there is a way to make this next line settle in with us even more. I wonder if you even needed this stanza. This could be cut and it would be better, or perhaps just bolstered by the words I don't know that need to be here.

she swallows hard

A gulp, literally. More of the drink poured down... Swallowing down her pain.

and looks into the sky-

These lines are simple, and I wondered if they could be changed. But you've already told such a story that these words have a weight to them. And, the pauses between each of these lines makes the weight more noticeable.

the ocean sleeps alone tonight.

Death? Change? I wonder... Is she the ocean, sleeping alone once more. Is she gone forever and now the tide has consumed her for good? I like that it's ambiguous. It means more.

When this was entered into the picture monthly contest, I was sure your piece would take the cake. Some changes here, some cuts and I think the piece would feel more polished and strike the specific chords with a more delicate precision it promises. Thanks for the read, Atti! Great work, again.

[Emily]

she inhales until the gut of her lungs
can taste the glass;
she drinks so deep
that she surfaces
in shallow waves on separate continents
just before collapsing into the shore
- desperate for affection.

Stunning imagery Atti. I see her drinking herself from country to country in her mind. I see the breaks of the tides pushing her out some unknown shore, to where, hopefully, someone will listen. Someone will care. Your wording here is really sweet. And the pictures in my mind are plenty. And the atmosphere is surreal. Really good.

she's going to die like this-
a destroyer.
Yesss. Love it.

her heart has consumed every thing
it's every tried to love
She loves like no other huh? Entirely.

and she wasn't raised with a backbone
thick enough to shield her heart
from the ricochet
of two overactive shoulder blades

I can imagine deliberation and self struggle with the way you've described the 'two overactive shoulder blades'.
I see a woman 'wondering' 'considering' 'contempating' what to do.

so she gives in to pity
since it's the only thing that lasts ------That's great.
- she sobs
so hard that her inhales
become the sea
and she it Nice imagery again here Atti. The way you've worded it is poetic and has a wonderful air about it. I love the bit where her inhales 'become the sea, and she, it'.

each breath another chest
of sea
soaked in midnight
Another day, another bottle. Another problem. Another drink. Soaking her pain into the wee hours of
night. Filling herself, her heart, with self medicating poison.

she continues until
she's had so much to drink
off her own body of shame
she can't see the pain. Well that's worded in a splendid way. I really like that. 'off her own body of shame' is a melting moment. That's great. I can feel her despair.

she's going to die like this-
and no one remembers a drunk.
Shame. But I think those two lines are a slap in the face of reality and entirely called for. What a great wake up you've put there Atti.

she's been writing
these suicide notes for years
and setting them adrift in the bottles she's emptied
inside herself
This bit is so clever. She's been trying to drink herself to death for years.
Telling herself the words and letting them drift with her scotch and soul, into no mans land. That's what I got.

a novel of a woman
and every love she's every lost.
Shame about the typo on such a polished piece. Or it could be 'her own drunk talk' lol. Although, doubt it.

she swallows hard

and looks into the sky-

the ocean sleeps alone tonight.

I hope her last gulp was satisfying. She drank herself to death. The imagery of her last moments...nice Atti.

Another well thought out piece Atti. Always a pleasure reading your work. Seeing your work. Hearing your work.
It's always a movie that I sit back and enjoy.
The flow is nice. Paced with peaceful timing, and tone.

Beautiful Read.

[Jukon]

I hate you and your talent. Will give real feed tomorrow

But this was great

[Sammy]

first off thanks for the feed on my piece. it was very encouraging and much appreciated. onto this here.


I read this 4 or 5 times over the past couple days and it still resonates.

she inhales until the gut of her lungs
can taste the glass;
she drinks so deep
that she surfaces
in shallow waves on separate continents
just before collapsing into the shore
- desperate for affection.

Beautiful imagery aside, this segment had me very surprised. Normally one would drink to numb the feeling. But in this segment, i'm interpreting the opposite. I read as someone who's numbed either psychologically or emotionally or maybe even socially hoping to get some semblance of feeling (affection) by drinking. Let's get to talking about the wording:

she drinks so deep
that she surfaces
in shallow waves on separate continents

that was dope! I take it as she being lost in a bottle; "message in a bottle" kind of imagery". Maybe her alcoholic dependency was a cry for help (which always are, i feel). Waves are often times representations of aimless motion and i thought that connotation worked to sheer perfection here.

she's going to die like this-
a destroyer.

This may be the dopest application of "paradox" i've ever read in a text verse - and very appropriate in contextual practice. Very impressive implementation, friend.

her heart has consumed every thing
it's every tried to love

perhaps an allusion to the "appetite for destruction" manifesto. I parallel it to the "bigger they are, the 'hearter' they fall" adage lol. This here should be universal to everyone. I actually have a personal story finely tailored for this segment but i'll explore that at another time. Evidently, even glutton for emotional reciprocation can be bad for the heart.

and she wasn't raised with a backbone
thick enough to shield her heart
from the ricochet
of two overactive shoulder blades

The imagery i got is of someone slouching forward - typically a physical trait of depression (my experience of that theory is of cartoons representations i saw as a child lol). Ultimately a sunken chest... of treasure wallowing in the depth of despair. The metaphor is very strong as it really sketched the weakened (mind)frame of the character, evident in that first line. "She wasn't raise with a backbone". Perhaps the characteristic of an emotional pushover who bends to whims, ultimately confused as to why shit happened because she's used to dealing with difficulties in retreating/passive manner. Very interesting.

so she gives in to pity
since it's the only thing that lasts
- she sobs
so hard that her inhales
become the sea
and she it

this was a bit strange to grasp. Pity doesn't really last, in my estimation. Its a momentary defense mechanism. However the following passages were awesome. The quivering inhalation during a teary session was well drawn - then attaching it to the ocean/sea concept was a brush stroke of ingenuity.

stanza 6

each breath another chest
of sea
soaked in midnight

BEE YOU TEE FULL. man...now that right there, i wished i wrote! The way it continued from the last stanza was expertly woven then ending with such thoughtful poetry.... ZING!

she continues until
she's had so much to drink
off her own body of shame
she can't see the pain.

Its in this segment that i started to wonder if this really was about a quick drunken getaway. Maybe the idea here was of one stewing in their own juice; Dwelling on painful past instances - but most painful was the fact that she probably doesn't even know what went wrong. Lots of interpretations to be made here.

she's going to die like this-
and no one remembers a drunk.

if this was a personal monologue of the character then this read like a very sad revelation. Its a notion painted on insecurity and confusion. I have a personal affection for this line.

she's been writing
these suicide notes for years
and setting them adrift in the bottles she's emptied
inside herself

Again, awesome imagery here. I read this as her swallowing all bottled up feeling...regurgitating and reinforcing the cycle of emotional violence time and time again.

a novel of a woman
and every love she's every lost.

Thought so.

she swallows hard

and looks into the sky-

the ocean sleeps alone tonight.

Very somber closer and really ended the poem in weary tone.

This was a beautiful poem to read. Using alcohol as a representation of emotional/psychological toxicity was brilliant. The paradox presented in the earlier stage of the poem presented the character as a destroyer of self and as i read further i knew that it was definitely in reference to her personal parasitic attribute eating her from the inside. This was the story of a woman who lost everything she's ever love and most painfully, and well depicted here, was the lost of her sense of self. This was grade A stuff.