As it Bursts

[Wjames]

Sockets forked with broiled eyes
clamped hard, tears and phlegm dripping
from my cheeks, mixing with the bubbles
steaming green on the tubs surface,
lit soft by cinnamon candles
and window moon.

I focus on each breath,
the lung tar and cinnamon hacking
up the heartburn dissolving my innards
and crisping my throat, emptying myself
with napalm.

[alonso ramoran]

Hi Wjames, this is a real nice one you got here. Comments below.

Sockets forked with broiled eyes Not sure how sockets can be "forked" esp. with broiled eyes
clamped hard, tears and phlegm dripping I like the tears and phlegm.
from my cheeks, mixing with the bubbles
steaming green on the tubs surface,
lit soft by cinnamon candles I'd go with "softly lit" here to smoothly continue the s's alliteration. I'm loving this whole stanza though.
and window moon.

I focus on each breath,
the lung tar and cinnamon hacking
up the heartburn dissolving my innards Maybe something along the lines of incinerating instead of dissolving?
and crisping my throat, emptying myself
with napalm. 

Problems with this poem, for me, were few and far between. A lot of interesting imagery. 

Best, Alex

[Mopkins]

Sockets forked with broiled eyes (ohh? forked sockets? little confusing maybe sockets stuffed/spilling/bleeding/oozing/overflowing with broiled/foggy/misty/watery/liquid/oozing/etc eyes?)
clamped hard, tears and phlegm dripping (hmm running/forming rivulets/cascading/flowing/beading/clinging/etc)
from my cheeks, mixing with the bubbles (hmm froth/suds/foam/vomit/jelly/goo/ooze/slime)
steaming green on the tubs surface,
lit soft by cinnamon candles
and window moon. (ssuper sses)

I focus on each breath, (focus? maybe meditate/wolf/slurp/devour/enjoy/deliberate)
the lung tar and cinnamon hacking
up the heartburn dissolving my innards
and crisping my throat, emptying myself
with napalm. (napalm? huh? is that in ciggies? clueless!)


gross upchuck bathroom scene but with lactose intolerance i get the drift maybe some alternate descriptor but that's about it for me.. thanks for the read

[vagabond]

Sockets forked with broiled eyes
clamped hard, tears and phlegm dripping
from my cheeks, mixing with the bubbles            you could write "mix with the bubbles" to avoid a another    "ing"
steaming green on the tubs surface,
lit soft by cinnamon candles      
and window moon.                      maybe some adjective, like foggy window moon.. or fogged but that doesn´t sound good .. but i like this moon behind the window here.

I focus on each breath,
the lung tar and cinnamon hacking
up the heartburn dissolving my innards           "..while heartburn dissolves..."?
and crisping my throat, emptying myself
with napalm.

this made me see a serious bronchitis..  hope i´m not completely off and offending a more tragic story  : )
your words are very original and the images fit (in what i imagined). i especially love the broiled eyes, not so much a fan of napalm (that word seems to aggravate the bronchitis with a men´s flu.).
i like how cinnamon turns into an irritant gas with medical purpose in the second stanza.

[flagthrower]

Sockets forked with broiled eyes --- bit confused about this line, how a socket can be forked with broiled eyes? 
clamped hard, tears and phlegm dripping --- good line
from my cheeks, mixing with the bubbles --- like the continuation. bubbles from what? 
steaming green on the tubs surface, --- should tubs be tub's?
lit soft by cinnamon candles 
and window moon. --- solid ending here. 

I focus on each breath, 
the lung tar and cinnamon hacking
up the heartburn dissolving my innards --- innards kind of disconnects the flow of the other words, seems bulky
and crisping my throat, emptying myself
with napalm. --- second stanza is great. 

[abstractconstriction]

An enjoyable piece, Wjames!

As noted by others there is a lot of interesting imagery and the pace of the poem is executed quite nicely by your choice of line breaks. I found the second stanza to be slightly stronger than the first. The lines are less packed, yet still just as impactful due to the concise word choices being used. It might be worth revising the first stanza to match this simplicity by removing excessive nouns that aren't adding much to the overall sensations that the poem is describing.

Also, a *tiny* note: using cinnamon twice within this short piece seems unnecessary. Although I understand it is being used to clarify "candles", I think simply saying "candles" is enough for the reader to link "cinnamon" to a few lines later. It also I think strengthens the connection being made between scent inhalation and physical pain.

[abinuku]

Sockets forked with broiled eyes
clamped hard, tears and phlegm dripping
from my cheeks, mixing with the bubbles

That is one of the most graphic depictions of a cry I have read. The word choices, such as "broiled," and "phlegm," stir images that provoke readers to remember moments of solitary angst. The imagined narrator sits in a tub of water alone with  of "cinnamon candles," symbols of comfort. The sadness is that the narrator is alone.

steaming green on the tubs surface,
lit soft by cinnamon candles
and window moon.

I focus on each breath,
the lung tar and cinnamon hacking
up the heartburn dissolving my innards
and crisping my throat, emptying myself
with napalm.