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Light through cracks...

11.5 Lysergic scale
Pupils broad complexion pale
suspended above corrossive rivers
by a single cracked and glassy rail

Comfort comes and goes a sliver
each breath another strichnine shiver
another broken rusted nail
from the eternal taker, seldom giver

Before these liquid axes drop
I think it's time for me to stop

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 

Comments

Been there, done that!
I have an image of someone looking at a bright light coming through the cracks of a wall. I like your title.
You had a great rhythm and pace and I liked your choice of language.
Really told your tale, great work!
~ Gee

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I appreciate the kind words and shared experience (or was it?). May be a call from the Darkside!

Ron

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

author comment

I think that the only time I have ever been off my head was by being very sick for drinking one too many.
And now I ain't going there lol.
Can't know what the feeling is like, so really can only imagine the effect on a mind.
My abstract your reality ??????
OMG it is made poetic to a degree where I read and think it is a good piece..La La, My dark room is calling me, Yours Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

I think certain adjectives have been over-thought. I also have been off my head from one too many and very, very rarely go there. I guess it doesn't really matter what is fiction or fact here. I certainly was going for a singular vibe or feeling. I can only hope I reached it.

Ron

Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

author comment
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