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Literature Text
brittle carcasses
of autumn trees,
naked and bare,
swaying, contorting, like my feeble frame -
bending and breaking, breaking and bending,
under the pressure of
the words i speak to myself:
simply cold, and harsh,
like an early winter,
interrupting the fall.
of autumn trees,
naked and bare,
swaying, contorting, like my feeble frame -
bending and breaking, breaking and bending,
under the pressure of
the words i speak to myself:
simply cold, and harsh,
like an early winter,
interrupting the fall.
Literature
butterflied
it is a snake
coiled in my stomach,
the urge to vomit
everything inside of me, to purge
all the toxic not-
good-enoughs. to retell
the same story and expect
a different ending is
the dysfunction that landed
us in here. I'm sorry
I don't follow you into
your dreams at night. I'm sorry
my smile is not the moon,
I'm sorry I did anything
to make you notice
me at all. no finger
down the throat could ever
take that
away.
Literature
Once Upon a Carcass,
I loved her like the flaws in barbed wire;
it stung. & I needed to take her castle ribs-
but I was jealous of heaven.
She spoke through her bones.
She: a beautiful decay
draped along my apartment,
& the mess of my mouth.
When she left,
I cried big ugly tears
for the First Aid of her
heartbeats
I needed Draco.
I needed her.
“Is it sweet?” She meows even still
with all my self-doubt.
This thing, I must not feed it-
As I still long to leave galaxies
along the length of her entire bed.
Literature
( 4/05/2014 )
poets got it hard
when the muse
only falls in love
with words.
i hate her,
you know-
that rat girl
who thinks she’s
celestial or
god sent hero
or some shit.
so constricted
in her own
problems
to think about
you
too
busy buying
the stars
& giving them
names,
but
all they do is
scream.
i guess
living out of my suitcase
wasn’t such a bad idea-
i’ll be running away
any day now,
anyway.
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Whilst I was absent from both this site and writing, I was losing myself when I was repeatedly saying such negative words about myself to myself. I was losing the fun-loving, out-going person that I used to be. I wrote this poem to remind me that I don't want to become a cold, empty shell of who I was.
---
Not the best poem I've written, far from. But after months and months of not writing a single piece of poetry I am quite happy with it.
© 2013 - 2024 imaginative-lioness
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