04-02-2016, 12:56 AM
Convince me that I am not mad
I think this line is a bit wordy, maybe you should come from the other end of the spectrum with something like "convince me of my comfort" or "convince me of contentment". If you mean mad as in insane, which based on the end of the work I think you do you could try a word like 'sound', 'lucid' or 'wit'.
This padded cell is the home of artistry
I think rather than 'home' the imagery here should muster a birthplace or a Genesis, rather than somewhere the craft was brought. I'm getting that you mean a studio more than a gallery or museum.
And this straitjacket the uniform of creativity.
Using the blood of the wicked as my paint
The bones of the crooked my brushes,
I feel like this line lends a bit of a repetitive notion to the rest of the work. I think simplifying it by relating it to the above line would work better. Something like "Their crooked bones my brushes"
we will paint a mural of the duplex,
the duplex that is my mind.
I feel like duplex doesn't quite fit. The rest of the language is rather etherial in comparison. If it has personal meaning by all means keep it in.
For the shapeless and unhuman entities next door
Inhuman*
tell me I am sane.
Overall you've got a good foundation to build on, albeit a bit overused. I think your language is holding you back a bit. Try sifting in some metaphors and see what words come out.
I think this line is a bit wordy, maybe you should come from the other end of the spectrum with something like "convince me of my comfort" or "convince me of contentment". If you mean mad as in insane, which based on the end of the work I think you do you could try a word like 'sound', 'lucid' or 'wit'.
This padded cell is the home of artistry
I think rather than 'home' the imagery here should muster a birthplace or a Genesis, rather than somewhere the craft was brought. I'm getting that you mean a studio more than a gallery or museum.
And this straitjacket the uniform of creativity.
Using the blood of the wicked as my paint
The bones of the crooked my brushes,
I feel like this line lends a bit of a repetitive notion to the rest of the work. I think simplifying it by relating it to the above line would work better. Something like "Their crooked bones my brushes"
we will paint a mural of the duplex,
the duplex that is my mind.
I feel like duplex doesn't quite fit. The rest of the language is rather etherial in comparison. If it has personal meaning by all means keep it in.
For the shapeless and unhuman entities next door
Inhuman*
tell me I am sane.
Overall you've got a good foundation to build on, albeit a bit overused. I think your language is holding you back a bit. Try sifting in some metaphors and see what words come out.
Thy Daughter & Thy Darling, Without End.