The Odious Octothorpe's Designation

[tommy's ghost]

She grabs onto my dismissed jacket
As she fades into a fond evening’s miscarriage.
The snap crackle pop of my beard against her neck
Evaporates with the cool saliva I left.
The vapor trails like a Tesla Coil of lucid remedies
To a shot-clock desperation of octothorpic 431 abandonment.
My eyes focus on the teeth… like rose petals condemned to the gallows
That drop like a glutinous guillotine that’s been stranded on an island.
The teeth chop away at my silly sanity…
My mind recoils from the BFG-like blast of the mental warp
That accompanies such afternoons where I find myself lost,
Sitting on the couch,
Wringing my jacket…
Searching for a scent…
Pressing my nose against every single stitch…
I find nothing…
I play the contortionist on that couch-
Which has been witness to many a pleasant evening-
Trying to find where you left your leather angel.
You always knew how to make the perfect impression,
Even on the tough hide of my furniture.
But why is it that I can’t find it?
Why has your memory left me?

[The Personist]

Referring to something as an "odious octothorpe" is an immediate turnoff to a reader. I love me some big words, and the title made me wince.

[tommy's ghost]

Referring to something as an "odious octothorpe" is an immediate turnoff to a reader. I love me some big words, and the title made me wince.

Haha. Duly noted. However, I used that particular word because of a personal reason; I didn't use it just to sound smart or poetic.

And as for the rest of the poem...?

[The Personist]

Haha. Duly noted. However, I used that particular word because of a personal reason; I didn't use it just to sound smart or poetic.

And as for the rest of the poem...?

At the moment, I'm doing like 12,000 things and I just read someone else's thing, but I would like to get to it. If I haven't tomorrow, quote me and I'll read it. Promise.

[tommy's ghost]

At the moment, I'm doing like 12,000 things and I just read someone else's thing, but I would like to get to it. If I haven't tomorrow, quote me and I'll read it. Promise.

Yessir. Thanks a ton.

[tommy's ghost]

At the moment, I'm doing like 12,000 things and I just read someone else's thing, but I would like to get to it. If I haven't tomorrow, quote me and I'll read it. Promise.

:-)
Just doing as I was told. Only read it if you have the time, of course.

[The Personist]

:-)
Just doing as I was told. Only read it if you have the time, of course.

Hahahaha I'm going to be as odious as your octothorpe and ask you to do the same again tomorrow. I JUST got home after being out all day and I"m pooped.

[tommy's ghost]

Hahahaha I'm going to be as odious as your octothorpe and ask you to do the same again tomorrow. I JUST got home after being out all day and I"m pooped.

Hahaha. Fully understood. Hope ya get some good rest.

[tommy's ghost]

Hahahaha I'm going to be as odious as your octothorpe and ask you to do the same again tomorrow. I JUST got home after being out all day and I"m pooped.

:wave:

Again, only if you're up for it.

[The Personist]

She grabs onto my dismissed jacket
As she fades into a fond evening’s miscarriage.
The snap crackle pop of my beard against her neck
Evaporates with the cool saliva I left.
The vapor trails like a Tesla Coil of lucid remedies
To a shot-clock desperation of octothorpic 431 abandonment.
My eyes focus on the teeth… like rose petals condemned to the gallows
That drop like a glutinous guillotine that’s been stranded on an island.
The teeth chop away at my silly sanity…
My mind recoils from the BFG-like blast of the mental warp
That accompanies such afternoons where I find myself lost,
Sitting on the couch,
Wringing my jacket…
Searching for a scent…
Pressing my nose against every single stitch…
I find nothing…
I play the contortionist on that couch-
Which has been witness to many a pleasant evening-
Trying to find where you left your leather angel.
You always knew how to make the perfect impression,
Even on the tough hide of my furniture.
But why is it that I can’t find it?
Why has your memory left me?

Bold = cliche and contrived
Underlined = awkward and wordy

I think the general conceit of this is sort of obscured by your titular ridiculousness and your out-of-place video game reference with the BFG. You've definitely cut back on blatant abuses of alliteration, which is nice, and I think you've got a better start here than you had before. I'dl ike to see you work on this and then post it in a comment on this thread so I can see a revision.

[tommy's ghost]

Bold = cliche and contrived
Underlined = awkward and wordy

I think the general conceit of this is sort of obscured by your titular ridiculousness and your out-of-place video game reference with the BFG. You've definitely cut back on blatant abuses of alliteration, which is nice, and I think you've got a better start here than you had before. I'dl ike to see you work on this and then post it in a comment on this thread so I can see a revision.

I think I will make a revised version of this.

Damn, I actually really liked those last couple of lines.

The BFG reference is definitely out of place and I have no idea why I included it.

[The Personist]

I think I will make a revised version of this.

Damn, I actually really liked those last couple of lines.

The BFG reference is definitely out of place and I have no idea why I included it.

Tinker with them a bit if you want to keep them. they felt maudlin to me.

[tommy's ghost]

Tinker with them a bit if you want to keep them. they felt maudlin to me.

How's this?

She grabs onto my dismissed jacket
As she fades into a fond evening’s miscarriage.
The stomp of my beard’s march on her neck
Evaporates with the cool saliva I left.
The vapor trails like a Tesla Coil of lucid remedies
To a shot-clock desperation of octothorpic 431 abandonment.
My eyes focus on the teeth… like rose petals condemned to the gallows
That drop like a glutinous guillotine that’s been stranded on an island.
The teeth chop away at my precarious plateau of stability…
My mind recoils from less than cordial jolt of the mental warp
That accompanies such afternoons where I find myself lost,
Sitting on the couch,
Wringing my jacket…
I play the bloodhound…
Pressing my nose against every single stitch…
I find nothing…
I play the contortionist on that couch-
Which has been witness to many a pleasant evening-
Trying to find where you left your leather angel.
You always knew how to make the perfect impression,
Even on the tough hide of my furniture.
But the indents of your curvatures have long re-surfaced;
I have no place in their lost valleys.
And the aroma of the fond evening has shuffled off the coital coil;
I bear no trace of its short-lived, subtle milieu of affection.

[The Personist]

bear*.

Do not like "coital" as it gives away too much of what's going on.

I will read this revision tomorrow more thoroughly. Tired.

[tommy's ghost]

bear*.

Do not like "coital" as it gives away too much of what's going on.

I will read this revision tomorrow more thoroughly. Tired.

Mental lapse.

I thought as much, but I'm just a sucker for alliteration and I think it fits.

Ok, thanks again.