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Literature Text
You're almost alive behind all those lies; can you dream dreams to make it all right?
High as light but not as right (to their eyes),
there's ways to fight.
Now it's time to run alive:
you can't die till you fight and fall,
there's more to running than flying.
Catch it if you can:
water's solid if you do.
It's time to die.
A solid is never similar to itself
except in death,
unless in light without lies.
You're almost alive behind the lies,
but I'm in a killing mood tonight-
it's time to run alive.
High as light but not as right (to their eyes),
there's ways to fight.
Now it's time to run alive:
you can't die till you fight and fall,
there's more to running than flying.
Catch it if you can:
water's solid if you do.
It's time to die.
A solid is never similar to itself
except in death,
unless in light without lies.
You're almost alive behind the lies,
but I'm in a killing mood tonight-
it's time to run alive.
Literature
Special! Two For One!
two in one sounds like a great deal
expect when it is your head.
because no matter
how many oval, bitter tasting pills you swallow
you are broken and
c a n n o t b e f i x e d.
hours under cotton,
woven by some underpaid worker
you spent hours protesting her conditions about a month ago
are spent laying
doing nothing
being who you may or may not
be.
is that the question
asked the most:
w h o a m i r e a l l y?
am i loving and soda pop at 2am
with friends, laughing at some professor’s mustache
or am i alone
at 4am
knowing everything will go shatter,
fall through my fingers
like it does through my mind?
as a child, the swings wer
Literature
homecoming
nearly home. nearly home. a space and time away from where you want to be: belonging to yourself. there is a midnight garden somewhere inside my lungs, black and tarry from the darkness i am siphoning from your lips to mine, trying to let the light in, trying to stop the hurt becoming a euphemism for two vertical red lines drawn in a bathtub. you have turned me inside out. raw, vulnerable; the silence is an agony.
you have wormed your way inside and I have agreed to be your golem, a clay replacement for the affections of the woman who bedded herself beneath your skin and rearranged your spine. even so, let me give til i am a dry husk, let me
Literature
Angstxiety
I am work weak on Wednesday
in a heap of hangover and hesitation
with fingers on a phone haptically
actively anticipating feedback—
I need that why do I need that.
My angst and anxiety
is constant and courses
and throbs with a pulse
that demands concern
of a baby boomer crooning poetic
in the distance to call me antisocial, or you know,
you could just call me.
If being this busy in an age
of constant communication
feels like having slept
but not feeling rested,
I'd rather cancel my plans
like a responsible millennial
and go to bed.
Suggested Collections
Letters, from me to Who?
© 2008 - 2024 londonmeanswild
Comments13
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Ah, it's almost lyrical. I love the kinetic imagery. ^_^ Very cool.