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Literature Text
Write ten bad poems.
Write one hundred
bad poems.
Write profoundly.
Write and drink.
Keep a notebook with you,
write in public
and make sure that others
know that you are, in fact,
writing.
Write a love poem,
then throw it away
because all the good ones
have already been read.
Ignore advice,
write about the decision
instead of the feeling.
Write one sentence
-make indents,
say to yourself that
this is it, THIS is IT.
Then delete,
and tell yourself that again.
Write one hundred
bad poems.
Write profoundly.
Write and drink.
Keep a notebook with you,
write in public
and make sure that others
know that you are, in fact,
writing.
Write a love poem,
then throw it away
because all the good ones
have already been read.
Ignore advice,
write about the decision
instead of the feeling.
Write one sentence
-make indents,
say to yourself that
this is it, THIS is IT.
Then delete,
and tell yourself that again.
Literature
Undeserved
I don't deserve to be an artist.
I don't know how to hold deep meaningful conversations with strangers.
I don't lament at night about a lover I have lost.
I don't watch the white smoke ebb into darkness.
I don't spend lonely nights admiring the true beauty of the world.
I don't sleep restlessly from the truth of suffering within this world.
I don't lie through my smiles or struggle to create them.
But I do think I am a writer.
I am completely, irreparably damaged.
I cry all night over old words and emotional baggage.
I weep over my lost innocence.
I spend nights
Literature
Asocial
Blinded by neutrality
Sickened by reality
I'm finding that absolutely
Solitude suits me
Literature
Suicide or Tea?
Should I kill myself or have a cup of tea?
I decide on the latter and I'm not sure why. Probably because I can. Life is a never-ending scroll of be-goods, be-happies, be-in-controls, be-okays, be-strongs and be-appreciatives. So what's another day?
Just another day closer to death.
Still, life seems incredibly long, don't you think? So long, it's hard to see the end and nearly impossible to touch even with a knife in my hand that could easily skewer my heart, make it squirm and still like a dying nightingale sealing its death with a pathetic squeal of almost-song.
Life is pain and people in pain are a pain in the ass. Perhap
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I don't know what to say. Written quickly, would like to hear the good and bad
© 2012 - 2024 FallingAsleepTonight
Comments65
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This is like giving me advice.
But it's called 'ignore advice,'
but this advice is so good to me,
that I can not simply ignore it.
I must take this in and apply it.
This is amazing,
this is just SIMPLY AMAZING.
Wait no, BEYOND AMAZING.
I love this, I love this so much.
Wow, you just made me think differently.
Thank you(:
But it's called 'ignore advice,'
but this advice is so good to me,
that I can not simply ignore it.
I must take this in and apply it.
This is amazing,
this is just SIMPLY AMAZING.
Wait no, BEYOND AMAZING.
I love this, I love this so much.
Wow, you just made me think differently.
Thank you(: