cold air, light
fragments of sound
syphoned from your blades
my hands could pass
through you now
from here
in my darkened room
legs stacked messily
upon legs
tied together in arms
pillars fallen in
an upheaval
i've heard santarias
and healers say
that evil is an airbound virus
now i can see
the residue of such
crucified on your grimy filter
i can hear it in the screams
of children outside
the crackle of gunfire
all coming in pieces now
its symphonic pur
yet i only watch
stroking her flesh to life
wondering how
lust survived your blades

a writers workshop project: write about a picture of a fan. this was my piece.

Very nice

I loved this line..

"its symphonic pur"

i love your writing. i hate commenting on it because my comments suck and you really deserve great ones. anyhow, this was well written. i liked the attention you placed on certain details...

"fragments of sound" -it reminded me of exactly that...pertaining to a fan...the swoosh...the breaks...if that makes any sense.

"that evil is an airbound virus
now i can see
the residue of such
crucified on your grimy filter"
...this was an ingenious way of describing a fan covered in dust bunnies being sent through out the room.

i could really go through the whole poem piece by piece but i can sum it up by saying...WONDERFUL use of imagery. I can see this room...envision the people..hear the sounds. You really allowed your reader to go inside...feel it.

wow. your words are much appreciated. i don't think we as writers care much if your words aren't eloquent, we just like hearing feedback. thanks for the incentive to write more today. much needed adrenaline