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[tectak]

Hi heart,
Line by line on this because there is a lot to go at. I only wish that conceptual stuff like this would spur the writer on to make greater effort in flow, meter, rhyme or rhythm. Taking the easy route, concept and nothing else, depresses me. Anyway, onwards an upwards,


I am a dead thing. Leering punks vie for my attention. plunge in. You could start with "I am a cadaver" which is not so different and serves the same purpose as just beginning a piece with "Fuck". Attention whore. You simply MUST follow an opener like this through to avoid the cheap gesture
They whisper and make gestures.
Dragging on my cigarette, the smoke swirls in circles, Is how it swirls in any sense unique? Could it be?
a distraction as I search among the faces for you. A scene is set. The audience awaits. The curtain rises. A dead-looking girl, leering low-lives circling, predatorialy? Expectantly? Threateningly? Dramatic draw on cool-dude menthol, smoke dramatises....then...then....

Traffic is slow, mostly looking, not buying......a traffic report.
Hard times have taken its toll on carnality.
A snapshot stirs my anger, still there We are whoreing in case anyone missed it...and in fairness I find high hopes for this restart. We shall see
is rent to consider.

Digging in my pocket I find your note.
Liar! Men call all the shots.
Tears well up but remain fixed. I hate you. Too late for this impotent rant. The line breaks do not help the rapid emotional flexings BUT there is an authenticity in this stanza which is keepable. I like the eyes ringed in tear stuff, not quite enough to break surface tension. Any chance this could be an enigmatic stanza 1...

Smiling sweetly at the young fellow, "fellow" is wrong vernacular, "young fellow" is worse.
I coax him, stay, don’t go. Half narrative. " I tempt him not to go"
The red lights dim, he lowers his head and follows.
“ Do you like Amsterdam?”,
barely audible, he whispers that he does. Yes to this, adept narrative here. The lack of flow throughout is not helping...you or me

I place the euros with your note.
The light reflects off my face and burns my eyes. Hard to imagine this
I fondle the pay in my pocket. I think I like "fondle"....I don't like "pay"...but I don't know why.
The night is not a total waste.Sometimes it is almost comedic to see line outs so deliberately used to no purpose other than adherence to a half-forgotten poetic wish. A sop to the endeavour. There is good stuff in this. Tell a story or write a poem. I cannot advise...or have I said too much already
Best,
tectak

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