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Literature Text
There was a storm here yesterday
where the clouds were thin
and the rain seemed to drip
right out of the sun.
Fingernail crystals
in a golden-yellow glow;
these days don't come often
you know, it's enough to let you
carry a spider from your shower
outside on a piece of paper.
Oh, god.
I want to hold this thunder
all to myself.
where the clouds were thin
and the rain seemed to drip
right out of the sun.
Fingernail crystals
in a golden-yellow glow;
these days don't come often
you know, it's enough to let you
carry a spider from your shower
outside on a piece of paper.
Oh, god.
I want to hold this thunder
all to myself.
Literature
catch me if you can
i'd like to smear ashes
over bloody heathen lips
and twist burnt corsages
around the maypole.
this rotten witch's heart
would love to curse you all.
disease has never looked so
lovely, i do declare, crawling
up your blistering limbs.
in case you are not aware—
love kills slowly, but revenge tastes so sweet,
so i'll just tip-toe off of this cliff
and embrace the beast awaiting for me below.
phoenix rising,
sunlight fading;
we
all
fall
down.
Literature
PS
it's come to this-- definitions
of memories and people and dreams
I’ll never know firsthand like reasons for living;
this realization that I
am a stagnant planet, lost
on its orbit home; this
search for a justification
to keep on breathing ocean
when my lungs won’t tolerate
salt. I woke today in the water
to angels swimming around my feet;
coral, pearlescent anchors dragging me
down, down, sweetly lullabying
about you, dear, and the day
the tides washed you away.
you are written in my skin
as much as the lies I live by
daily. you are the beautiful things:
the sun waking up in the morning, the
stars pitying at me as I try
Literature
Autonomous
She asks me to tell her a story,
a quiet ignorance of the self,
separation from
the unaffected scratches
on her freshwater skin and
years she spent
searching for the dreams orbiting
her like forlorn moons;
love happens on the sharp
nights unbalanced with
a little too much of the things
you don’t understand. She never
liked her eyes, full and honest and an
unignorable admittance she was real.
But she never was a cheater,
she claims, no one
put a price on her; the things she gave
away cost too much like
doctored up, re-polished
silence. Sounds familiar.
Imagine a place where
no one has a nightmare. No one
has a voice, their lives are
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I'm trying very hard to think of fire and lightning, and nothing else.
© 2013 - 2024 FallingAsleepTonight
Comments5
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I can't tell you how beautiful I found the imagery in this to be. Especially 'and the rain seemed to drip
right out of the sun.' along with the last line.
right out of the sun.' along with the last line.