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    Doctor Oger
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Sock Drawer - 24. The Concavation/The Affection Absence

The Concavation

/The Affection Absence

 

A hollow orgasm in bed

with morning birds from the left

then a foul taste in his throat

was the sole event that led

him to wake, his soul bereft

of all but the old load.

He was not alone but he was

by himself with shades in his mind

that were imprints of a man

who never seems as dangerous

as what he is, an air god, kind

in a way and always cold.

In a narrow fold

of reality, he thinks

there must be room to hold

all the precious little things

that come with us, as we should be

and with a real love, thinks he.

Copyright © 2017 Doctor Oger; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Hollow and empty, you paint that perfectly well. This is an exercise in sadness, a portrait of unhappy loneliness. Expertly done - enough to make me weep.

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The first thought revolves around that ghost again – the 'shades in his mind' – which puts us back into Blood Gem territory.

 

Secondly, as a guy, it seems profoundly sad that an orgasm would be un-felt, or basically unlived. The opening of this poem, with the climax being akin to some passionless bodily function like a sneeze, is striking poetic metaphor. It works really well here.

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On 02/06/2016 08:39 AM, Parker Owens said:

Hollow and empty, you paint that perfectly well. This is an exercise in sadness, a portrait of unhappy loneliness. Expertly done - enough to make me weep.

As I strive to do with every other poem. Do cry.

In all seriousness, thank you very much for the review.

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On 02/06/2016 12:27 PM, AC Benus said:

The first thought revolves around that ghost again – the 'shades in his mind' – which puts us back into Blood Gem territory.

 

Secondly, as a guy, it seems profoundly sad that an orgasm would be un-felt, or basically unlived. The opening of this poem, with the climax being akin to some passionless bodily function like a sneeze, is striking poetic metaphor. It works really well here.

Thank you and you're perfectly right.

And thank you for the insightful review.

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