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Literature Text
i want to be forgotten
but i don't want to be forgotten
please dont make this harder than it should be
i want to fly and crash into the sun
but can you please put the sun back up for me?
i want to win a fight
but I have to lose first
shotgun rocket and slingshot cannon,
butterknife saber and a battery powered laser,
how can I win without a weapon to wield?
i want to be forgotten
but first i have to remember
please please make this too hard for me
i want to win but i have to lose
take away my weapons and the sun too
how can i lose without a thing to gamble?
but i don't want to be forgotten
please dont make this harder than it should be
i want to fly and crash into the sun
but can you please put the sun back up for me?
i want to win a fight
but I have to lose first
shotgun rocket and slingshot cannon,
butterknife saber and a battery powered laser,
how can I win without a weapon to wield?
i want to be forgotten
but first i have to remember
please please make this too hard for me
i want to win but i have to lose
take away my weapons and the sun too
how can i lose without a thing to gamble?
Literature
Matchstick
irreplaceable yet unnecessary
leave me in your retrospect
where you found me, unwanted & with a question mark over my head
or a Matchstick, maybe
I'm the fire you started &
couldn't put out
the one you doused &
the One you'll freeze without.
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
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it's very...abstract
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I love it