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Literature Text
let's skip through the unnecessary dialogue,
the late-night phone calls where she screams until you hang up,
the "i'll see you next monday,
until then i'll just try to breathe."
let's get to the part where she dies.
there is poetry under her skin, a pulse that defies everything,
arteries clogged with stutters and pleads.
she cut her finger on a paper once,
and words swirled out along with the blood,
drenched in a bitterness of sorts.
(she licked it off, but the words remained,
spreading across her body like chicken pox).
and it still itches, skin peeling off faster
than you break promises,
do you remember the sun when it went down?
she went down along with it
while you enjoyed the view.
the late-night phone calls where she screams until you hang up,
the "i'll see you next monday,
until then i'll just try to breathe."
let's get to the part where she dies.
there is poetry under her skin, a pulse that defies everything,
arteries clogged with stutters and pleads.
she cut her finger on a paper once,
and words swirled out along with the blood,
drenched in a bitterness of sorts.
(she licked it off, but the words remained,
spreading across her body like chicken pox).
and it still itches, skin peeling off faster
than you break promises,
do you remember the sun when it went down?
she went down along with it
while you enjoyed the view.
Literature
Cherished
I want you to worship this love
I write poems about
I tore it out of a virgin womb
just for you,
and I bear it to you now, naked,
shivering in the nervousness of flesh
exposed to a cold world.
It will suck on the breasts
of prostitutes
and kiss the lips of small-town drunks
with their whiskey-tipped breath
and hollow eyes,
and I will touch my fingers
to its precious little mouth
and feel the warm saliva
bathe my skin.
I want you to put your ear
to its unguarded chest and listen
to the murmur
of its shriveled heart,
pulsatingthe warm, lively core.
A tempest, the Red Sea succumbing to Moses.
The fall of the tower of Babel.
Watch t
Literature
Comic Book Hero
We met in the Summer, I was single and free,
So fragile and sweet, he took care of me.
He was so much fun, exciting and new,
It was all so amazing, too good to be true.
Like a comic book hero, he swept me away.
He promised me the world, the night and day.
But his heart was untrue, his words were lies.
No comic book hero, but a villain disguised.
Our romance was deep, like Superman and Miss Lane
Iron Man, Miss Potts, Spidey and Mary Jane.
He impressed me with gifts, and words sublime,
Affirmations of how he would always be mine.
Like a comic book hero, he swept me away.
He promised me the world, the night and day.
But his hea
Literature
remuneration
there were dreams of abasement, tearing up at the thought of
the noxious corners of your eyes. i saw them at a glance and fell
headfirst in the Styx, catching billowing waves of uncertainty and
heartache. they crashed with a decade-begrudged mind that was far
from healing -- far from me.
and though the fall was abrasive and the
waves, their own harangue, their heartache
and toxins faded & found graphite talismans
engraved in a red wrist warmer.
the ground that my blood decorated, with a history of broken bone
marrows now showed how unnecessary a transplant w
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Okay. Writer's block has officially beaten me. But time heals all wounds, right? I'll just have to jump around on crutches for a while.
Okay. Writer's block has officially beaten me. But time heals all wounds, right? I'll just have to jump around on crutches for a while.
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Comments23
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Your fantastic work has been featured here!
I'd really appreciate it if you could give some love to the other featured pieces and the journal!
I'd really appreciate it if you could give some love to the other featured pieces and the journal!