Addiction To Falseness:
By Schuyler Heyneker

He’d always been his own deity,
He was sure he was the substance that all men need be to subsist.
He packed bowls of aromatic satisfaction and popped tablets of authority.
He felt strong, but craved to be filled.
He drank bottles of strength and became drunk with power.

He spent his evenings the same.
He had associates over for ingesting his pre-bought spirits.
He fed his network stories they wanted to hear and nourished them with falseness about his existence.
He felt strong, but craved to be filled.
He fibbed away all of his honesty and became occupied with fault.

He encompassed his own lies.
He convinced himself he was real and that his fake was justified.
He inhaled lines of snow dust and punctured his veins with liquid.
He felt empty, and needed to be filled.
His own insecurities ate his helpless body alive and he became nothing.

His own companions were visionless.
He’d blocked their sights with the wool of his own false jacket.
They saw nothing behind his mask because he didn’t let them observe.
He felt alone, and needed to be filled.
His own acquaintances had no idea of his pain and so he had no aid.

He wanted to lid his defects.
He continued to build up the persona that he was unscathed by life.
He swallowed gallons of strength and popped bottles of capsules.
He needed help to be strong, and craved to be filled.
He was surrounded by assistance but he didn’t want to exploit his façade.

He knew he was ill with addiction.
He saw himself on his last legs but pushed himself to continue.
He lit pipes of yellow love and breathed ounces of petroleum.
He wasn’t full, but he needed to be.
He became deeply miserable and decided to take his own presence.

He was infatuated with his decision.
He took his concluding look at existence and was content with his verdict.
He stuffed his face with anything he could and filled his veins with evil.
He wasn’t full, and was sure he’d never be.
He jumped the ledge during the dead of night.

Fake never feeds your addiction,
And lies only fill you with guilt.

Some body please comment.

There's this guideline where you're supposed to respond to two other poems before you can expect to get responses... I'm sure that's why no one has yet responded, plus its a slow day.

As far as the poem. I like it. Nothing jumps out really as to it being wrong. The repetition works.

Is there anything you don't feel is working for you?

I just wanted input, I'm trying to transfer to an art high school right now and I wanted to see what people think about my work before I use it in my audition

I think its a good poem. It reads to me as being from a person who's past the highschool level... so I would assume thats a good thing in your case.

Thank you, yeah, that's a good thing for sure. I'm only a sophomore. I've got plenty more works that I hope to post here. I need 15 things for my portfolio. I look forward to your comments on my others.

This was not bad, I might have cut it a little shorter taking out words that repeat the idea. But thats just me.

I do have a question.

"He lit pipes of yellow love"

What does that refer to? What does that mean?

....Oh John you are the man. Really.

D

You can lose the "that" in the second line. Most of the time "that" can be deleted, I've found. People tend to use it a lot, which only clutters up writing when they should be tightening it, especially poems.

Don't know what you mean by "pre-bought" spirits. Are you making a play on words (i.e. spirits as alcohol and ethereal creatures)? It's such an odd way I'm led to think there is some reason you are saying liquour in this oblique way, which makes me try and think why and can't figure it out, so I get stuck on it.

Wordsmithing aside, I have two main problems with the poem. First, you are describing a pretty tragic person, but kind of dispassionately. The poem reads like a simple, matter of fact list of the person, but not in a really compelling well. This might seem confusing. Let's just say I get the sense you are describing this life, but holding it at arm's length. I want you to embrace it, distill it, drink it up, digest it and then piss out the poem in the snow in front of the guys house. You obviously have an opinion of the life. You seem compelled to express and comment on it, but I think you are holding back.

Finally, and I kind of have a problem saying this because I never really thought I would tell someone their poem was wrong, but I think one of your last lines is wrong. And I mean wrong in the sense it conflicts with what you've said/described in the poem. The line is:

"Fake never feeds your addiction, "

From what you wrote I would have expected you to write:

"Fake only feeds your addiction."

It seems the entire point of your piece is how his lies, his fakeness only feeds his addictions, so I'm confused why you end the poem by saying, "Fake never feeds your addiction." It doesn't make sense from what you wrote to me. I could be wrong and maybe I misread the poem, but I read it a couple times and still come to the same conclusion.

i didn't mind the distance of the narrator to the subject so much, the detachment, but some of the word choices seemed too forced, like the author was searching a thesaurus. that said, this is very well written for your age. polish it up and it will do well in your portfolio.

To the people who replied.
"Yellow Love" refers to crack cocaine which is a slight tint of yellow.
"Pre-bought spirits" both refers to liquor and already planned lies and stories he had ready to tell them.
Gnarbaflex: I completely agree with how you'd end it and I'm going to use that (if you don't mind).
Thank you mayo for your input, no I was not searching a thesaurus, however, I did use it once for another word to use instead of gasoline on the line where I put petroleum.

pre-bought spirits refers to already planned lies?

I don't see it. Is a spirit a lie? I know "spirit" can refer to liquor and ghosts, but never knew it could mean a lie. That's a new one on me. I suggest maybe "Liquor store lies."

And just so you know I do like things (wanna say something positive), you do have some imagery which is very good.

"aromatic satisfaction and popped tablets of authority"

"network stories they wanted to hear"
(looks simple, but it actually plays two ways, one in terms of Internet stories and network in terms of the business network as in stories/gossip about peers, spreading lies as well. This is deceptively a simple passage, but I think very valuable to your intent.)

fibbed away all of his honesty

i think "pre-bought spirits" can easily refer to lies/stories that he had ready to tell. don't back down on that one. a lie and a ghost are very similar. i like the image alot.

Well I'm new at this. In comparison to what others said I feel like what ive got to say is small. I liked what you wrote. It made me think. I’m no expert at poetry so no advice or criticism. Just what I think. I felt the empty feeling. I felt full with the decision at the end. I felt the ways described, he inhaled lines of snow dust and punctured veins with liquid. He felt empty and needed to be filled. Its deep and hit me hard. Drugs are powerful I've experience all of them and have overcome few. So thanks for your words I took something from it.

I liked this dark negative-aspect-type-obituary. I have trouble with the last two lines, not because I don't understand that truth or being real or getting a grip on the reality of his circumstances may have saved his life, but because it reflects on you as the writer. After all, this piece, to me at least comes across as sombre and it is written clervely enough not to judge the suicide - until the last two lines. I think the line "fakeness never feeds your addiction" will confuse, and I agree with Gnarbaflex and have nothing better to add on the point he makes above regarding the ending.
I think your piece would strike your audience with a greater feeling for the suicide, sad and undesirable as he was before and after the event, if you end with something that does not do a disservice to the dead. You get my meaning?
May I suggest something like this :
Seeking falseness found him addiction;
Living lies filled him with guilt:
Had he pursued the truth as eagerly as he pursued the high life
perhaps he would not have jumped to death to avoid himself
but jumped to his life to find himself

or something like that?