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Literature Text
Eyes closed, you are a first word to kiss my lips
Syllables foreign as the fairytales we told
As children, before you forgot the endings
Before I chose to forget the color of your eyes,
And before you didn’t remember the name
Of the girl who climbed the oak tree with
You at midnight just to see the moon.
Syllables foreign as the fairytales we told
As children, before you forgot the endings
Before I chose to forget the color of your eyes,
And before you didn’t remember the name
Of the girl who climbed the oak tree with
You at midnight just to see the moon.
Literature
Dreams Burn
I'm scared of the future
But I'm scarred by the past
And if time is the suture
I'm not healing too fast
I have lost my direction
And I'm losing myself
In a World of perfection
Of fame and of wealth
As I once was a dreamer
Like I once too was young
But dreams burn like a fever
In the land of the numb
Literature
.
Piss Poor Philosophies
I sit here wondering how this all came to be.
Where did all this attention come from?
Why do the shadows haunt me?
are these shadows my mistakes
or my beginnings
My mind is holding these devils,
I don’t know what to do anymore.
I want the demons to stop laughing in my ears.
demons are just my kin -
brother, sister but there is no one connection
Eventually, death becomes my friend.
I realize that I know it well in the end.
Because maybe we’re all dying before we live?
but does living just mean to live
to die
9/23/14
-chromey & lovely
Literature
because we're too afraid to fly in daylight
just when i thought i was home,
the welcome mat
turned to tacks beneath my feet.
i apologized for the blood
that crept into the cracks and stained your porch.
this isn't the redwood i had in mind;
but i think it's kind of beautiful,
in the same way
a moth can't find its way to the stars
from inside the garage so it
flicks its maddened wings to make a
ting, ting, ting
on a dying lightbulb.
"abyssus abyssum invocat,"
i whisper to the winged-dreamer
as she makes her way across my cheek.
i know she hears it as she
eases past my softly, parted lips.
ex glande quercus,
her wings thump morse code
against the rawness of my throat
and i swallow to
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