I dig the imagery... but the meaning/point eludes me. -shrug- Mayhaps the liquor hath clouded my vision?

Wonderful

I imagine this being written more than six years ago, and it is... how much you were of a grown up then in your own universe, and how you are still growing in this... been a while, dear.... hope you are fine.

Grasping at straw in the wind. It wasn't that quaint.

... No, no. You're not doing it right. Ever hear of haiku? Fuck, I'll do it for you.

The ghosts of our dreams grip us with the fingers of eternity... they are our real addiction- that which we see yet can not attain. Do not allow the misery or intoxication to warp thy craft with pimple-like amateurism. Seek to use these aspects of your mental enviroment to focus and sharpen the blade utilized in the execution. No Vote.

The ending seems purposely designed to confuse. That or you were seized by an epileptic episode.

Damn it man, write with the pen and stop jabbing at the paper.

The use of the word like in the manner you've employed it above? Don't. Saying "will forever last" in a vain attempt to avoid saying the tired "will last forever"? Don't. Repetetive redundancy? Eliminate it. If it's constant, then there's no need to say it'll last forever. Do not ever cheapen what you are trying to express in such ways. You need to reconsider the way you go about constructing your poems. Become thy editor motherfucker! Consider this: You are the eternal sundown setting, the distant rain pouring down, an ocean wave receding-- lingering in the distance just beyond my grasp. You are the ever-present reminder of pleasant memories; maintaining the sadness, making me yearn for the past. Yesterday has long since passed, but you're still here, always. --That's just a quickie example. Notice the difference?- Clear, fluid, with a crisp finish. It's not what you're saying, it's how you say it. Capiche? Find thy style and, by god, develop it.

Apparently you also can not write either. Stop grasping for the appearance of profoundness. You haven't gripped upon anything but the air and your own literary flatulence.

Don't question the meaning of the dance. Dance and let the meaning express itself. You get a three only because I like the title and you display a wee-bit of cleverness.

Seems like the ending needs fine tuning.. or perhaps I'm just itching at ghosts.

I say scrap this as a sonnet and slash s1 and let s2 stand alone. Just my opinion.

Life sucks the soul right out of a ripe tit don't it?

It's got soul. More soul than I posses.

Take your hallmark style cliche and that didactic expression of a lambs vacuous ethic and go back to your "happy place". Stay there and don't sully the taste of those who sustain themselves on a diet of meat & cold glasses of reality. If you don't? You'll be the next chop that I devour in an act of savagery.

Oh god, what a wet blanket dripping bedpee all-over the fucking place. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Rising in a dust cloud, are you? http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/ap081214.html

i liked it but i thought that bit just didnt fit in u should have just kept gay:(Well, actually paedophilic but it wouldn't sound right in this poem, never mind, it's near enough.),but still good

random but lols