I once have bled from the needle of Eve,
Unwed I lie in bed with heroine,
Whilst father said in God I must believe,
Yet I just watch the sunset deep within.
In Christian truths or lies I found nothing,
The voids in life I have failed to fill,
The churches sing yet my faith is sinking,
The mysteries haunt less with every pill.
My lungs, they cough and plea until they bleed,
And head then spins with sick, fiendish delight;
Thoughts lost here, diseased, my mind full of weed,
This, my twisted reality tonight.
Awoke years later things aren't what they seem,
I wish I could say it was all a dream.
"The mysteries haunt less with every pill."
ReplyDeleteThis line really stuck with me, and I think this is an incredibly strong poem. You have a way of speaking (writing) that seems so natural, as if you're in conversation with someone. I really admire that.
Joel, really appreciate this sonnet—in form and content. With very few exceptions (like "whilst"?) I think you find a nice balance between the archaic and the contemporary—as Liza says. Would like to talk to you about tense. You could experiment with different strategies. Maybe consistent past — then present at the end. Or present all the way through, then something else in the couplet, like future, conjecture? The tenses are still squirrelly here. Love this work.—kWh
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