08-31-2013, 11:12 PM
The whole thing was fresh months ago, but things kept going wrong around me, and I kept going back to this, making it more clunky. It was full of outside scenes and a more consistent rhythm. But then I was more angry each time I came back to it, and added more prison lines. Then more mental lines.
The better sounding parts came from the initial freshness. The lesser lines and stanzas come from writing so close to my imprisonment theme which this was the last of.
I truly lost the outdoor lines. That's why all the flat ingrown consciousness parts come in.
All this going back in on itself and falling apart. It wrecked a lot of my poems lately. The jagged edges of internal wreckage cutting my brain on the infested lot.
The better sounding parts came from the initial freshness. The lesser lines and stanzas come from writing so close to my imprisonment theme which this was the last of.
I truly lost the outdoor lines. That's why all the flat ingrown consciousness parts come in.
All this going back in on itself and falling apart. It wrecked a lot of my poems lately. The jagged edges of internal wreckage cutting my brain on the infested lot.