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Breathing in Plastic
You entered the room with flashing lights and eerie sounds with bursting notes,
and I followed with closed eyes to avoid any misinterrpratation.
And lust followed me and shut the door, then vanished like a virus in the sterile room.
So love took her place and stood calmly in the corner to osberve.
While I tried to pull myself together piece by piece,
and I couldn't help but stare as I began to drown the whole place
and she carefully drained it, and the doctors just kept
walking in and out, puddles of insecurity all over the floor
and they soaked their fraying shoelaces without a blink or curse.
I'm watching his fingers curl around the bedrail
and I can't move, trying hard to believe in God right now--
if nothing else just so I can die with him and not alone.
I've spent days sewing hope to me on every visible inch
so if his lids were to open they would see me radiate in
silver lining, and maybe it could bring him somewhere closer.
And everyone else is taking two steps back, trying not to
feel their hearts beat with his in time to the mechanical drums;
they say I can't sit on your matress and they say there's not a chance,
they don't really understand that I can't handle it.
Can't handle the smell of plastic and hospital shampoo and artificial air.
Can't stand the clatter of food trays, know you're not eating them.
Can't stand the sound of babies crying, I know life is a cycle.
And for life to come life must end and I'm hoping I've never been selfish
so I can be now, and I'll give every cent and smudge of pride
I left on life's hourglass, every memory to bring his back.
I won't leave his side, can'tsleepdreamblink.
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I think you're my favourite author when it comes to descriptive techniques and the swerving and twisting and turning and soaring and plunging ways of description and mood and emotion and visuals. You will never cease to amaze me with every new piece of your writing - how the hell do you DO it? =D
You place words of substance and essence together, and it really creates a thick and deep richness and almost a texture to your work...it's funking awesome lol!
This was absolutely perfect in my opinion, and absolutely loved reading (and re reading it, to refigure things out).
To the Bookshelf I go!
Just want to say thank you very much for the read! |
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Comment by: AJSmith - 2006-09-04 07:04
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Wow.
I'll be honest, on first read I was slightly bemused by this, probably partly because i've read your previous work and your theme usually revolves around another guy, and sex, and stuff like that, so i was looking for meaning in your words which weren't there - but then right at the end the real meaning clicked and there was a wave of appreciation. I read the first line again and all of a sudden i 'got' it - and continued reading. The second reading blew me away. That first line is brilliant and it was probably only my stupidity that i didnt get it the first time. Every line thereafter is nicely crafted with poignant image after poignant image. Very clever how you switched to third person and back again - subtle and saying a lot. A simple idea used well. And I really like your combination of abstract and reality ie 'puddles of insecurity' - and while others may dwell on successful metaphors, you use one and leave it and move on to other things which shows good control. the detail of his fingers around the bedrail is well observed. This is when all the pieces of the puzzle start to fit and the overall picture can be seen by the reader. I think what makes this great is the interaction between the event and your feelings - without straying into cliche or cheeseland. the silver lining section is a good example of this - an original and creative way to say that you havent left his side (talking to him constantly, I predict.) It's the 3 lines that start with 'can't' that are the weakest for me. This is a method that a lot of writers use and as such you dont stand out here. I think it was a good idea to get in some 'reality detail' to make the hospital room real, but dont use artificial air because that is overdone. "Can't stand the clatter of food trays, know you're not eating them." - this line is weak too. (I'd change the way these lines are structured, losing 'Can't' and perhaps including some more of your abstract-meets-reality images).
And then the last 4 lines are strong and emotive. Very good last word - but - you have written something so perhaps make it just cantsleepdreamblink - that way the image i see is your unclosing eyes, wide, staring at the bed.
Overall, my new phantasmagoria favourite, and oh yeah, great title. |
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Comment by: Gecko - 2006-09-01 03:33
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| Interesting. Getting to realy understand the meaning of the poem was difficult, but the way you write it turns it into a living explosion of feelings and textures. I like the way you wrote it, and I like the way it moves. Very sweet. |
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