Written by Cyroth on 19.05.2011 at 23:50

Written by therest on 19.05.2011 at 21:47

Btw, have you read Nick Cave's "And the Ass Saw the Angel"?

No, I haven't, never heard of him. Well, maybe I'll make some time for it this summer. As inspiration I usually go to Insomnium's or Dark Tranquillity's lyrics, or I listen to Agalloch.

Here's a reading of one chapter by Nick Cave. (The chapter begins with Euchrid (the main character) discribing his hut and his dogs and then he slowly slips into philosophical monologue. Perhaps it's easier to follow it, if you know this already.)

Written by therest on 20.05.2011 at 00:37


Here's a reading of one chapter by Nick Cave. (The chapter begins with Euchrid (the main character) discribing his hut and his dogs and then he slowly slips into philosophical monologue. Perhaps it's easier to follow it, if you know this already.)

Efff, I couldn't get into the words so much. I would rather read it, like in my own pace. Plus the fact that the background sound was annoying.

Hmm been a while since I checked in..

Written by Wilkinson on 07.06.2011 at 15:51

Hmm been a while since I checked in..

Human computers, electronic neurons
Living a mechanic life, writing without thinking
They speak much and tell little
Heart and mind enclosed in tiny metal boxes

Food poisoned by hatred and by lies
Green-eyed monsters with their red blood hands
What's Life - you're just a shadow
[that stands in the Sun

W.I.N.G.S.

Night skies, open and bright
A soft breeze and songs in the air
Unseen, but alive and so real
Stars as roadlamps as I fly
[free and unbound

E.Y.E.S.

Robotic laughter resonating from steel shells
As they trudge blindly towards the furnace
Melt and be born again with an iron heart
That beats like a clock hand ticking

Remove your mask and show your true face
The ball is over, all have fallen asleep
No more masquerades, no more silly parades
Back to the silent chamber where only the Moon sings.

(18/05/2011)

exelent , I love it its liie industrial metal song, remaind sme one thing what I wrote about PC games when I was lil addited, this is brilain work
Its be perfect song lyric

Written by Bad English on 07.06.2011 at 18:22


exelent , I love it its liie industrial metal song, remaind sme one thing what I wrote about PC games when I was lil addited, this is brilain work
Its be perfect song lyric

Thanks! I didn't think it as a song but maybe it could work if I reworked it in order for it to be singable. Funnily enough the basic idea came while I was watching other students during the exams. But obviously the main theme went to other directions.. Alienation, mechanization, computerization, and why not addiction too! A bit like that "Computer God" theme.

I havent written a poem in quite a while, just havent had the motivation. This one isnt that great, and isnt up there with my past work, but its the first one ive written in quite a long time, so yeah. Had a shit week, and while it hasnt been that good for me, my creative side is finally being brought back to the fore, so hopefully i'll see a return to form. we'll see.

An animated corpse steals my reflection,
as I gaze into this mirror of desire.
An artists work of beauty fades back into its blank canvas.
The reversing of the curse is the embrace of the familiar...

We build to destroy, and destroy to rebuild,
this canvas of fucking insolence, holds distain and yet hope.
So we destroy to start over, and start over to destroy.
Hoping to improve upon the former.

And yet we know the former was the only
the person we most loved.
So we kill and destroy and hurt,
to justify our mistakes.

We hope in our hearts she hasnt moved on and will forgive the mistakes.
We hope the knife we held to her heart is forgiven, if not forgotten.
But we know she is dead, purged long ago in the fire
of our obsession to redesign.

Day of the Dead Ones

A passionate night has fallen,
new dawn is about to rise,
the morning light of penetrating sun,
is weaker and weaker...
autumn has gone with this day

Lovely coloured laying on the grounds,
are these fallen maple leaves,
the chirp of birds is quieter...
still somehow, the smell of agony,
is getting stronger and closer

Behind closed our eyes
lost indispendable spirits,
will escort us in our minds
through narrow paths,
of very strong alive past

The empty sillouhette of a life once led
Forever a shadow of my former self.
The tragedy is that while I wither and I die,
I care not.
The world turns and breathes around me,
taunting with its attempts to reconcile.
Nothing escapes the view of the hopeless,
Cynics to our final breath...
Eternity cares not for the past,
Heroes, villains, buried in the sands of time,
Prematurely they suffocate alone,
Forgotten the deeds past.
Where do I lie in this endless sea?
This bottom abyss that hungers for more...
Who am I to say?
If destiny exists, dare we challenge our path?
Dare we make our own path,
when it doesn't belong to man to direct even his step?
Dare we breathe at all, when all we do is make our graves?
All these questions, the questions of a soul broken,
of a life who is past its prime...
Damned and tormented...
But aren't we all?

WAC - I know those feelings I have same, but its 1th poem here and maybe ever I read ''fucking'' into it, I agree whit you I have read better from you, no offense, but its like a moon we all fall, rise, and shine .... so it will come beck,

Abb - good one, maybe to eraly for fall, but good work, I like it, some feelings into it I try visualate it

WAC - last is good, I like it, gonna read more in morning light when head is fresh

Written by Bad English on 18.06.2011 at 00:26

WAC - I know those feelings I have same, but its 1th poem here and maybe ever I read ''fucking'' into it, I agree whit you I have read better from you, no offense, but its like a moon we all fall, rise, and shine .... so it will come beck,

Abb - good one, maybe to eraly for fall, but good work, I like it, some feelings into it I try visualate it

WAC - last is good, I like it, gonna read more in morning light when head is fresh

I've sworn in my poems before, Im sure of it lol. And no offense taken. I knew its not my best, but when restarting you're gonna have some shit ones before you have good ones.

Written by whatsacow on 17.06.2011 at 21:11

The empty sillouhette of a life once led
Forever a shadow of my former self.
The tragedy is that while I wither and I die,
I care not.
The world turns and breathes around me,
taunting with its attempts to reconcile.
Nothing escapes the view of the hopeless,
Cynics to our final breath...
Eternity cares not for the past,
Heroes, villains, buried in the sands of time,
Prematurely they suffocate alone,
Forgotten the deeds past.
Where do I lie in this endless sea?
This bottom abyss that hungers for more...
Who am I to say?
If destiny exists, dare we challenge our path?
Dare we make our own path,
when it doesn't belong to man to direct even his step?
Dare we breathe at all, when all we do is make our graves?
All these questions, the questions of a soul broken,
of a life who is past its prime...
Damned and tormented...
But aren't we all?

enchanting stuff!

Written by VloRD on 21.06.2011 at 13:50

Written by whatsacow on 17.06.2011 at 21:11

The empty sillouhette of a life once led
Forever a shadow of my former self.
The tragedy is that while I wither and I die,
I care not.
The world turns and breathes around me,
taunting with its attempts to reconcile.
Nothing escapes the view of the hopeless,
Cynics to our final breath...
Eternity cares not for the past,
Heroes, villains, buried in the sands of time,
Prematurely they suffocate alone,
Forgotten the deeds past.
Where do I lie in this endless sea?
This bottom abyss that hungers for more...
Who am I to say?
If destiny exists, dare we challenge our path?
Dare we make our own path,
when it doesn't belong to man to direct even his step?
Dare we breathe at all, when all we do is make our graves?
All these questions, the questions of a soul broken,
of a life who is past its prime...
Damned and tormented...
But aren't we all?

enchanting stuff!

Why thank you good sir. To be honest, i thought that poem was a bit shit, but oh well. Do you have any that I could read?

Written by VloRD on 21.06.2011 at 13:50

Written by whatsacow on 17.06.2011 at 21:11

The empty sillouhette of a life once led
Forever a shadow of my former self.
The tragedy is that while I wither and I die,
I care not.
The world turns and breathes around me,
taunting with its attempts to reconcile.
Nothing escapes the view of the hopeless,
Cynics to our final breath...
Eternity cares not for the past,
Heroes, villains, buried in the sands of time,
Prematurely they suffocate alone,
Forgotten the deeds past.
Where do I lie in this endless sea?
This bottom abyss that hungers for more...
Who am I to say?
If destiny exists, dare we challenge our path?
Dare we make our own path,
when it doesn't belong to man to direct even his step?
Dare we breathe at all, when all we do is make our graves?
All these questions, the questions of a soul broken,
of a life who is past its prime...
Damned and tormented...
But aren't we all?

enchanting stuff!

Why thank you good sir. To be honest, i thought that poem was a bit shit, but oh well. Do you have any that I could read?

The solitude

Cross the stars in my hands
With the scars in my heart
From infinity it unmasks
A beauty in which poison basks

So bestow me with dreams of happiness
Even if they not be true
For too long I have lingered in emptiness
In search of you

So lost and sinking in a pond full of tears
Ever so rising for some years
No rays of sun had shown in its reflection
Like you?my affection

So I continue to drown in this woe
Bound by fate in solitude
With no warmth on my skin
With no life from within

Sorry i've been gone for so long... i've got to go to work in a few minutes, also.... husband still out of work and constantly home.. i can't concentrate on anything, and there are about to be some major changes in my life... my choice... but once things settle down in a couple of weeks, i hope to be back on here and reviewing poetry on a regular basis... i'll explain when it's all done what's going on... but for now, it pleases me to see you guys commenting on each other's poems... thanks so much for supporting each other... i'll see you guys hopefully in a couple of weeks...

Raging Dreamer

Coffin Ships This is nothing to do whit Promordial song!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Crying alone, in those streets where I can not walk
Walking alone to the secret place where are nobody left who talks
And keep saying I do everything wrong
I will pray and make my coffin ship strong

Keep on saying you will send me beck home
Im leaving whit ship , in my coffin

Ship keep sailing in a cold dead sea
Where mairmaid is calling, good I can not see
Ship is lost, mirror is navigator not stars and compass
Now I can hear their tears, even Im so far

In a secret place , hard dessicion about my life I will make
In tears, blood and pain, I will see how my life fades
You was so happy, but made my life complicated
Now you cry and are so frustraited
Ashes of yesterday returning whit a tears of tommrow
Its last secret promise I made , breading blood of sorrow

Mother and father...there is a reason why children cry
Mother and father...there is a reason why children lie
Mother and father...there are no logic and clear reason why they die in a accident
but there a reason whyle their take their own lifes




My Dying Lungs

In my dying lungs
I hear a eternal growls
and silance what is so painful
someone braking out
whit a single breath what is killing me
not a single gram of nicotine
but destiny blows cancer winds
deeper down, deeper down
in every hert beats
life swallow last minutes
in my dying lungs

Written by whatsacow on 21.06.2011 at 17:32

Written by VloRD on 21.06.2011 at 13:50

Written by whatsacow on 17.06.2011 at 21:11

The empty sillouhette of a life once led
Forever a shadow of my former self.
The tragedy is that while I wither and I die,
I care not.
The world turns and breathes around me,
taunting with its attempts to reconcile.
Nothing escapes the view of the hopeless,
Cynics to our final breath...
Eternity cares not for the past,
Heroes, villains, buried in the sands of time,
Prematurely they suffocate alone,
Forgotten the deeds past.
Where do I lie in this endless sea?
This bottom abyss that hungers for more...
Who am I to say?
If destiny exists, dare we challenge our path?
Dare we make our own path,
when it doesn't belong to man to direct even his step?
Dare we breathe at all, when all we do is make our graves?
All these questions, the questions of a soul broken,
of a life who is past its prime...
Damned and tormented...
But aren't we all?

enchanting stuff!

Why thank you good sir. To be honest, i thought that poem was a bit shit, but oh well. Do you have any that I could read?

Yeah...A spiritual poem, my take on religion...all that good stuff
Hell's Gates its called:

All creed, all race,
Glory or disgrace,
It is time to brace,
As winds of death lay you to waste;

Judgement day you shall face,
Seven Paths to hell,
From which do you choose to dwell?
For the bridge to heaven,
Is long destroyed.
Satanic opulence,
Is your only choice.

This charity,
Cannot save your soul,
That statue wont help,
As hell's gates beckons...

You think your god is a merchant,
For you trade all your wealth,
For a stairway to heaven,
Alas! heaven is forsaken...

Watch as blood burns,
The priest's belief,
Causes all life to cease,
Golden idols revel,
You wont choose to rebel,
when religion is hell,
And your god is DEAD.

what do you think?

Written by Bad English on 22.06.2011 at 20:52

My Dying Lungs

In my dying lungs
I hear a eternal growls
and silance what is so painful
someone braking out
whit a single breath what is killing me
not a single gram of nicotine
but destiny blows cancer winds
deeper down, deeper down
in every hert beats
life swallow last minutes
in my dying lungs

This is about harmful effects of drugs right?
Your bad English Doesn't stop your creativity!
This Piece is very meaningful...

Written by VloRD on 23.06.2011 at 18:24

Written by Bad English on 22.06.2011 at 20:52

My Dying Lungs

In my dying lungs
I hear a eternal growls
and silance what is so painful
someone braking out
whit a single breath what is killing me
not a single gram of nicotine
but destiny blows cancer winds
deeper down, deeper down
in every hert beats
life swallow last minutes
in my dying lungs

This is about harmful effects of drugs right?
Your bad English Doesn't stop your creativity!
This Piece is very meaningful...

its simply about lungs who has been fuck up since birth

Written by VloRD on 23.06.2011 at 18:20

Written by whatsacow on 21.06.2011 at 17:32

Written by VloRD on 21.06.2011 at 13:50

Written by whatsacow on 17.06.2011 at 21:11

The empty sillouhette of a life once led
Forever a shadow of my former self.
The tragedy is that while I wither and I die,
I care not.
The world turns and breathes around me,
taunting with its attempts to reconcile.
Nothing escapes the view of the hopeless,
Cynics to our final breath...
Eternity cares not for the past,
Heroes, villains, buried in the sands of time,
Prematurely they suffocate alone,
Forgotten the deeds past.
Where do I lie in this endless sea?
This bottom abyss that hungers for more...
Who am I to say?
If destiny exists, dare we challenge our path?
Dare we make our own path,
when it doesn't belong to man to direct even his step?
Dare we breathe at all, when all we do is make our graves?
All these questions, the questions of a soul broken,
of a life who is past its prime...
Damned and tormented...
But aren't we all?

enchanting stuff!

Why thank you good sir. To be honest, i thought that poem was a bit shit, but oh well. Do you have any that I could read?

Yeah...A spiritual poem, my take on religion...all that good stuff
Hell's Gates its called:

All creed, all race,
Glory or disgrace,
It is time to brace,
As winds of death lay you to waste;

Judgement day you shall face,
Seven Paths to hell,
From which do you choose to dwell?
For the bridge to heaven,
Is long destroyed.
Satanic opulence,
Is your only choice.

This charity,
Cannot save your soul,
That statue wont help,
As hell's gates beckons...

You think your god is a merchant,
For you trade all your wealth,
For a stairway to heaven,
Alas! heaven is forsaken...

Watch as blood burns,
The priest's belief,
Causes all life to cease,
Golden idols revel,
You wont choose to rebel,
when religion is hell,
And your god is DEAD.

what do you think?

As a lover of all things nihilistic and religion hating, I approve. Also, you're odd rhyming patter which changes a bit occasionally is kind of cool. I do quite like it.

[Here is a nice upper for all of you.]

loser

To be a loser,
first
you have to loose,
to loose,
first
you have to
give
it
a
shot
at no matter what
'cause in the end
you will only be
know
as
the
loser.

[The next one is probably a downer for some, I guess.]

a humane man

humanity is
leaving those
be, who wish
to be left alone
humanity is
not picking
fight
unnecessarily
humanity is
not killing
a man
unnecessarily
humanity is living
humanity is not
freedom of speech
democracy
humanity is not
an education
that is forced
upon
all
living
things
humanity is not
fighting for ideals
it is not revolution
humanity is not war
humanity is not
equal rights
or understanding
humanity is not
getting up at 7 a. m.
putting a smile on your
face
and thanking the
government
for the privilege
to work
humanity is not
politness
humanity is not
money
humanity
is
not
war

[Both written very long time ago.]

Written by Bad English on 28.03.2011 at 00:33

Your Stinky Hands

Im sleeping in a room, Im alive or dead , I dont know
Is it my soul or ashes who's returning whit a storm,
but your smile calls a wind who blows all away agan
I only hear you saying:'' Dont touch me whit your stinky hands''

Im looking to the wall, I dont know if Im try to fall in sleep or fade away
Im in a dream now, I dont know if Im going up or falling down
Did I reach a sky or hit a ground, I only remeber
I only hear you saying:'' Dont touch me whit your stinky hands''

I dont remeber if I shoot to stars or moon
In this place nobody cares if you eat whit your hands or silver spoon
I dont know if I dance like king or fool
I only hear you saying:'' Dont touch me whit your stinky hands''

I dont know what Im looking for , is it space or is it time
I dont know what hepend whit all friends what I once knew
I dont know if I need stay alive anylonger, because
I only hear you saying:'' Dont touch me whit your stinky hands''

a very surreal poem but i can't figure out why the voice keeps saying what it does lol.. it sounds just like a dream

Written by [user id=101272] on 09.04.2011 at 23:07

In the process of writing a poem made in tribute to our own Patty Hearst. It coming out rather slowly, though. This is all I have:

"I follow them because there are no other.
I follow them like lambs to the slaughter.
I'd follow them to Hell and back.
Duck and cover, you're under attack!"

Still working on it...

Did you ever finish it?

Written by Bad English on 09.04.2011 at 23:37

Feeling


I have a feeling, feeling Im gonna die
Die in summer
When cool wind take me far away
Where sun will shine till I stay there
When river stream takes me far away
Where in nightime all soul windows are open wide,
Souls are creaming when sad muisc angels play
Where green treas makes me apologies
Because I rung this bell of changes

I have a feeling, feeling Im gonna die in autumn
When I will fall, fall like last leafe from sleeping tree
When cold rain will makes me wet and last kiss in a rain makes me upsest
When last sunshine disaprears under highest mountains
I will discovrer secret place where giants sleeps

I have a feeling, feeling Im gonna die in winter
I will froze, like watter turns to ice
When sun will die and ice shines like a diamond
My coffing be left under snow
Ground be to frozen to dig my grave

I have a feeling, feeling Im gonna die in spring
When snow will melt and fading away
When brirds sings their songs about awaking
I will see last time my life line like a horizon
Far away far awat far away





Mentall Ilness


Im falling in my dreams
I hold my pillow tide
Im sorry for my sweting face, there is mentall inlness in my soul

Gallows are my serenity
But I dont see my imaginary friends no more
Im traveling in time now, I see my fields of conceqvencies

Screaming soul and mental tormnet
All sorrows makes me try to hang me.... please take me
To farway lands whit hopes and new frontier to reach
Where is no beloved hugs, no pain and hate no need for hanging in old ropes

I liked the first one best. You did well taking us through the different seasons and describing the things happening during those times. It was a very interesting read!

The 2nd poem seems a bit like some of mine in that you are wishing for another life, another reality... trying to find a way through to another day perhaps...

I myself have recently made some major changes in my life. Sometimes if you want the change bad enough you have to step up to the plate and make it happen yourself... it's not always easy, and there are consequences for everything, but you have to believe in yourself and the fact that you are doing the right thing for you...
Sorry i've been gone for so long... i'm still trying to find my balance, but i'm starting to gain a little ... I hope to be back soon to comment on a few more poems... I'm still not having a lot of luck with concentration, but all things take time, and i'm in recovery... so it'll happen eventually.... keep up the good work everyone!

Raging Dreamer

Written by Raging Dreamer on 16.07.2011 at 09:03

Written by [user id=101272] on 09.04.2011 at 23:07

In the process of writing a poem made in tribute to our own Patty Hearst. It coming out rather slowly, though. This is all I have:

"I follow them because there are no other.
I follow them like lambs to the slaughter.
I'd follow them to Hell and back.
Duck and cover, you're under attack!"

Still working on it...

Did you ever finish it?

Not yet. Never got around to it. I might, though, when I get a chance.

RD - hands
It is lil you can say so but when you sleeping and hear voices, its like fats sleep, weird dreams mix whit reality in end you get this

Feewling - Yesits true I wrote it long time ago, I was in werry weird emotional state so, I mix seasons, it was most depresive time for me, week after time cghange, 1h of light more how it is usualy, so

mentall Illness - I would love to go somewhere, somewhere what is not ment to be for mortals, so .... Im reday to do all do be somewhere , its like between this and anotherworld, ppl cant see you, yo're there and can use all thibngs i net, food etc

Run Away

I run away from home last night
I dont wanna go becvk and fight that fight
Now drifting from dream to dream
Where I found out, elders wizdom not always are bright

I run away from my girl last night
She was so wise saying, she loves me same time jot
Telling lies how great paradise is
Hiding a fact, there heaven is black

I run away from dream last night
Dream about how to find old true America
I thought I found it between Nevada and Georgia state
But I lost it in interstate, same place where I found my life's end



Running Down A Dream(All Orgasm Long)

In daylight he fakes, a way how we walks true night and talks nonsence
In nightime he brakes her and and try do some sence

In modning sheäs gone , a lady of the night wanish in the mist
A women or a girl, Cant remeber if she even was real

Get out of my bed now, get out of my head now
Stop running down a dream now, all orgsam long
Now I feel alone , I dont know what to ..... FUCK
I dont know, do it one more time or keep running down a dream

Written by [user id=5630] on 10.04.2011 at 00:21

Ever since I went to a poetry rendezvous in September of last year, my desire to write poetry has been rekindled. Not only that, but I see poetry as a way to eloquently express an idea. Here is one I recently composed, my longest so far.

Kleptocracy

Deep inside their marble halls,
Built from the labor of workers unpaid,
The Lords of Wall Street submerge themselves
In green seas of fortune
Wrenched from the hands
Of the taxpayer.
One Lord did proclaim,
"Ponder not the consequences,
Fear not the fallout,
For we are too big to fail.
No matter the circumstance,
No matter how deep the hole,
No matter how terrible the disaster,
The government shall pull us out,
For they are indentured to us,
And they shall forever serve our will."
And so the Lords continued
To bathe themselves in stolen wealth,
But beyond the golden walls
Of obscene opulence,
The masses are huddled
In gloomy concrete shells,
Devoid of light or warmth.
On the icy floor,
A man lies motionless,
Gaunt and pale,
With tears in his eyes.
His hopes have been shattered.
His dreams have turned to dust.
As he falls asleep,
One thought dominates his mind:
Revolution.
He wishes for the day
When his neighbors shall rise
And stand as one
Against the wealth-mongers.
He wishes for the day
When Wall Street is engulfed in flames,
And those golden walls,
Which once towered
So menacingly above the masses,
Come tumbling down.
Only when that day finally arrives,
Only when the kleptocracy finally falls,
Will he smile once again.

This is absolute genius. Though almost a story rather than a poem, this is absolutely wonderful writing! And I learned a new word as a result! Great job! You made a very good point about the current crisis and things happening in the real world! How very true!

Written by Cyroth on 10.04.2011 at 00:42

Hi guys, took me some time to get back, but I had a lack of inspiration like never before. So from my rusty mind I give you:

To a final act

I have foreseen myself in shadows
Surrounded by?hollow
The pain of time shows
Not on my skin, but on my soul.

Like nails of the iron maiden,
Torturer life is without haven.
With a breath of mist overhead
Would my grave become the bed?

Withered away like the old oak
From this ground to be broke,
Leaves would dance in the sky
Carried by wind so up high.

Now, here commences a final act:
The rush of blood from the impact?
One last blink, one last breath
And now death?

Hmm... interesting... I liked the first stanza very well, the second was a bit confusing to me, but i really loved the last two lines of this stanza on their own. The third stanza seems to stand all on its own as a separate thought, and oh so beautiful!
The last stanza... seems like you killed yourself... but it leaves it with a mystery as to what kind of impact... very interesting nonetheless... it had some beautiful points in there. But it seemed a little less solid than other poems I've heard from you. Still, it's great that you wrote something. I've had an inability to write of late, but of course that's no surprise, considering what's been going on these last few months. If anyone is curious, I have it written in a new blog I started... www.mymorningcupofsolitude.wordpress.com

Keep writing. It'll come back to you! Good job nonetheless. Hope to see you again soon!

Raging Dreamer

Written by whatsacow on 14.04.2011 at 03:15

The sound of silence fills your lungs
As you scream for someone to save you from your watery tomb.
You acknowledge you're own hopelessness
Yet you still pray.
Praying to a god you don't believe in.
Praying to the maker you denied.
God is dead.
Philosophy is dead.
Science is dead.
You proved our own worthlessness and plunged us into this abyss.
There is no hope.
Faithless, we drift as you drown.
Without aim, we self destruct.
Without our deities we immerse ourselves in anarchaic malevolence.
We preferred our beligerent bliss.
We preferred our lives when they made sense.
When they had a purpose.
So as you're lungs fill with water, I pull you out.
I lay you on the land.
As you lay dying, I want the last thing that you see
To be the world you destroyed.
What you took away from me.
From us.

This is a very sad, very bitter poem. Is it based on someone actually drowning? Great word usage save one word. You're means 'you are'. I believe you meant to say 'YOUR'. It's very common for English speakers to make this snafu, what with so many words that sound the same and are frequently misspelled by even the best of us! I didn't know the proper way to say open 'til midnight was actually spelled till, and was not a derivative of 'until' until I looked it up and discovered the British English origins of the word. I had always seen it written as 'til.
Aside from that minute issue, this is a near perfect poem. I always love the way you put things, and I love the pure hopelessness of the story. in a way it tells about human nature and humanity in what it has become. Excellent work as always! How did the publishing go, by the way?