10.13.09

[xunpredictablel]

|Title| Untitled, wow, what a surprise ! xP
|Rating| pg.
|Theme| paranoia
|Notes| One of my friends is a major in english and he told me I needed my stuff to flow better. So this was an attempt at that, as was my next poem.

Eyes.
There were always eyes.
White orbs staring at me,
drifting through the night.
Eyes.
Always lurking around thoughts, whispering ominous promises.
Always threatening against my throat.
Hands.
There were hands against my. I couldn't feel the skin.
Creeping up my chest and neck and crushING doWN my BONES.
Frantic- frantic-
The eyes and hands taunting me- watching me expectantly.
Terror-horror-
I have no games to offer you, stop pulling on my strings.
I'd maybe play once in a while, should I feel anything.

My eyes! They see!
- the things once blinded to their peripherals.
My hands! They feel!
- the skin I wasn't familiar with.
A revelation in physical form, but the spirit transforms with its cage .

My eyes see the lies I've learned into my heart.
The things I've been told for the longest times, since my days grew old.
Follow me, into - you see this journey I have traveled.
Learn from me,

these things you see were once more than just raveled.

This body used to be- less-ravished.

Learn from me.
My mistakes aren't yours to make .

[noir]

In your PM you said that you hoped that I'd connect with your poetry, and I'm more than pleased to tell you that I did. After writing Elysian Fields, and tweaking it a little, I found an odd sense of the paranoia you describe here surrounding me, though mine was a little more hopeful

The worry and terror you describe in your feeling is ... I'm not going to say easy to associate with...but it is something we've all felt I think, but not many of us can give voice to it. The feeling that people are talking about you when you don't understand what they're saying, the feeling that people in streets are bumping into you and body checking you on purpose... you gave that feeling a superbly elloquent voice, especially the jumpy and frantic feeling. Your use of the '-' completely changes the pace of the poem, showing the speed of how that feeling takes over you.

And it certainly flows. So you managed that perfectly.

[xunpredictablel]

I never revisit my poetry. I never edit it. I feel a really strong sense of utter paranoia and despair when I even consider doing so, so I can understand that after messing around with your poem, you felt that way. It just, utterly consumes me. I don't know why, hehe.

Yes, I think it's definitely something most people struggle with, but also - the hands. This is something that not many people can relate to, but I have a difficulty letting people touch me. It's certainly okay if I engage in a hug, or a pat on the arm, or whatever, but being touched - sometimes, I feel suffocated, and I feel like an animal plotting a way to escape from the terror I feel when someone I don't know bares their hands on me. This likely comes from a terrible experience I had with a friend, who was really a stranger - that I thought I could trust but it ended up a dreadful mess .

I'm glad you caught the change in pace, that was very much desired, because that was about to the point I was looking all around me , making sure no one was noticing me. Haha..