Young Writers Society

i have dreams of dying, of breaking through the cosmic void
at precisely eighty-nine miles per hour, crunching bones
through the plexiglass wall between my face and god's,
and every night, waking in a cold sweat, i write these scenes--
reels and tapes from an ambien drive--and i pretend to have power,
pretend to have control over their great outcome.

there's a terror, smooth and quick like a nightingale,
and she likes to kiss my neck, to slide her fingers--weeds--
through the mesh of cobras behind my ears. she'll follow me, i think,
until this night i dream of, until i'm broken like the sound barrier,
like the skin of an unripe fruit between vicious molars.

the only power i have now is the release of thoughts,
the feed of energy into the universal consciousness;
this is godlike strength, feeble yet omnipotent in perspective,
and this makes my inevitable loss both sin and tragedy,
drama and rogue desire.

Quit your day job, be a lyricist.

I really love this poem, I just decided that I would make all spelling and grammar mistakes red so that you could see where they are so I copied the whole poem. I love how short the poems is it makes it easier to understand.

i have dreams of dying, of breaking through the cosmic void
at precisely eighty-nine miles per hour, crunching bones
through the plexiglass wall between my face and god's,
and every night, waking in a cold sweat, i write these scenes--
reels and tapes from an ambien drive--and i pretend to have power,
pretend to have control over their great outcome.

there's a terror, smooth and quick like a nightingale,
and she likes to kiss my neck, to slide her fingers--weeds--
through the mesh of cobras behind my ears. she'll follow me, i think,
until this night i dream of, until i'm broken like the sound barrier,
like the skin of an unripe fruit between vicious molars.

the only power i have now is the release of thoughts,
the feed of energy into the universal consciousness;
this is godlike strength, feeble yet omnipotent in perspective,
and this makes my inevitable loss both sin and tragedy,
drama and rogue desire.

I have nothing else to say other than nice job keep up the good work.

AliyahPillage wrote:I really love this poem, I just decided that I would make all spelling and grammar mistakes red so that you could see where they are so I copied the whole poem. I love how short the poems is it makes it easier to understand.

i have dreams of dying, of breaking through the cosmic void
at precisely eighty-nine miles per hour, crunching bones
through the plexiglass wall between my face and god's,
and every night, waking in a cold sweat, i write these scenes--
reels and tapes from an ambien drive--and i pretend to have power,
pretend to have control over their great outcome.

there's a terror, smooth and quick like a nightingale,
and she likes to kiss my neck, to slide her fingers--weeds--
through the mesh of cobras behind my ears. she'll follow me, i think,
until this night i dream of, until i'm broken like the sound barrier,
like the skin of an unripe fruit between vicious molars.

the only power i have now is the release of thoughts,
the feed of energy into the universal consciousness;
this is godlike strength, feeble yet omnipotent in perspective,
and this makes my inevitable loss both sin and tragedy,
drama and rogue desire.

I have nothing else to say other than nice job keep up the good work.

Thanks for he kind comments! I suppose it'd be fair to say that all grammar was intentional (including a reference to the drug Ambien). Let me know if there's any further confusion.