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Literature Text
give me this disaster; because
it is all i know, and i know how
a heart
breaks and i want to
watch you fall.
--
i'll be at the bottom; standing
still, cold in my disease, my lungs and
hipbones have melted together
and i think
i'm falling apart.
i'm brave.
--
i am flying or trying; but
i can't get high enough
to soar on these wings,
broken years before.
--
but i'm not safe, i'm not
afraid. i believe in anything i
need to get by, i'm stronger than
either
of us thought before.
this is what i was waiting for.
it is all i know, and i know how
a heart
breaks and i want to
watch you fall.
--
i'll be at the bottom; standing
still, cold in my disease, my lungs and
hipbones have melted together
and i think
i'm falling apart.
i'm brave.
--
i am flying or trying; but
i can't get high enough
to soar on these wings,
broken years before.
--
but i'm not safe, i'm not
afraid. i believe in anything i
need to get by, i'm stronger than
either
of us thought before.
this is what i was waiting for.
Literature
the poets.
we are the in-betweens-
the rise and fall of poetry
we misuse structure,
misplace grammar's skeleton
and neglect the proper magic
of capitilization
but we are poets because
we hide in the vowels, slip in between
the sharp consonants that make
tongues click and teeth snap
to the spaces between the actors
and the supporting cast
connecting words like buttons on a shirt
or colliding magnets
we are poets because our hearts
become the page, the stage
but we are always left
with the blood on our hands
Literature
six
She told him she was not the same.
She told him she was not the same and there as an unusual sensation that came from under her skin, deeper than the bottom of a cheap flask, farther than his words and his kiss and her wishes could reach. Her bones were shifting and her ligaments were stretching and the growing pains were not what she expected in the least. Everything about her ached, from her thoughts to her heart to the butterflies in her stomach, and when he lay close and held her fingers at night and brushed the golden waves from her eyes she wanted him why it felt like he was pulling her seams apart from the inside out. She told him hi
Literature
agnostics anonymous
I am
envious
of your faith
(a) sin
I don't believe in
Suggested Collections
crusaders.
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Comments18
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You'll take that blank last page...
and plant your fist through it!
END OF THE WORLD!
...memory of that blood.
Ora Ora Ora.
and plant your fist through it!
END OF THE WORLD!
...memory of that blood.
Ora Ora Ora.