Loba's profile

Loba avatar
AGE: 25
LOC: Williston Park, NY
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: July 29


a.j.w. has been writing for the better part of her life.
What’s her writing like?
” i don’t write anything new, i just paraphrase, revise, rephrase, and clean up the mundane and average language.”
She is not here to blow smoke up your ass, because she does not want that actions reciprocated.
She is here to be a better writer, and to try and help other people be better writers.
If you think she’s mean, that’s fine.
If you think her comments are useless and against the guide lines please ask for a refund.
a.j.w. is like The girl in the shadows, but the latter is a better writer, critic, and person; you should l…

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Item Stats
Reviewer Stats
Items
Poetry / lunch break
Version 1
3 Reviews   0 Comments
i don't eat. i live off of dead dreams. sloppy wet dripping a blue dark as midnight rainstorms passing through a starless sky moonlight peaking through presenting a cream beacon kissing slick surfaces soaking into ivory bones- a prism reconstructs white light -divide-multiply-replicate birthing new blood - placentaless mitochondria - creating new energies - moments cascading into points of complacency, beyond jeopardy in a centrifuge spinning off kilter separating densities a muddy stratifica...
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
0 Reviews   0 Comments
. . . I'm not happy with anyone . . . some days I feel that's all I am, a depressive mass of personnel history afterthought, There was also confusing hope with denial in 2004 There is not future but forward. Between Honesty and Truth Tears are just recycled into the drinking water. Have I lost you? Are you sand? My wrists are parted lips, and slippery like a cunt. there are some things I should forget "So close to dying that I can finally start living" . . . maybe I shouldn't care after all ....
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
0 Reviews   0 Comments
I can still taste you in the back of my throat. Something salty like my tears and post nasal drip. The truth is every city has its secrets, and they lie in the silence of the moments in between the each note in the urban hum each city knows. Solitary sounds thrust through tympani skins to find a crevice of pink thought. Divorce is a force of nature. The last train ride was a damn broken by the momentum of leaving our life in a subway tunnel after a cab ride marriage. sometimes, these times, w...
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
0 Reviews   0 Comments
Bitter is the color that I stain my lips with. A filter for my every word of love. I never thought birthday wishes had a shelf life. Misery, company in a wish and over cake. There must be more than this. Twenty three with a crone disposition. My heart moved from red to black to read perhaps back? Back when I fell out of myself. here it is, the distance, it's as obvious as the atlantic ocean or the california horizon. how did we move past this? it is really possible for him to have someone new...
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
0 Reviews   0 Comments
Fall is here. She sulked in last night like a piece of wet, damn clothing leaking the cold into your skin. If you are visiting the area bring some thing to cover your body, I can only do so much. I listen to Etta James and think of you. Every day at work I play her and remember. Cities always keep their secrets, and the yarn of my tongue is wound tight. When I kiss you again I will unravel. It will be a journey through undercurrents and unaccessible jewels. A subway trip of covert desires. My...
Ratings & Rankings
Reviews
to me this read like a diary entry or an open letter and not really a poem. the content and subject is very sentimental. alot of people eat that stuff right up so it should be very publishable.
this poem is pretty solid. the more i read it the better it gets. the tone is very light and airy and the mood if very quiet. i think the mood and tone are emphasided by the word choices and imagery. "aimless", "drifting", "breath", smoke" "fingertips not touching" this could be cleaned up a bit: * i found S1L4 confusing. what found them aimless, the date or 2 a.m. and the snow? * how is primal instinct forgotten? instinct isn't lucid thought. were they so bored with eachother that that prima...
Non-fiction / 6 words/creative life
Locked
this is a pretty solid piece. i dig that it's a stort of emotional landscape. i love the voice of the narrator, very strong and dramatic. sometimes the descritions are a bit over dramatic "drip with devastation". but mostly the descriptions are sublime "tsunami under quarantine ". the tone of the poem isn't too sad or depressing. the tone is more sentimental and earnest with longing and fond rememberance. it effectively and impactfully communicates the progression of the relationship, its end...
Poetry / Rose Blood
good use of metaphor. breaking this up into stanzas would help the reader asorb the poem better.