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Literature Text
fractal reflections in cataract eyes and kaleidoscope dreamcatchers,
crystallized cyanide
romanticized suicide but
there is nothing romantic about this.
it's been a little over a month and
i still claw my way up from nightmares;
my nails are broken and jagged and
my hands are raw and ragged and
this is how i know i'll never have children.
your mother misses you, you know,
and mine didn't let me attend your funeral so
i guess this is goodbye.
you can scream for eternity but
no one can hear you from hell,
trust me,
i've been there.
if God has a hitlist he crossed you off
instead of me,
which is funny because all i do is
write goddamn poetry;
it could've could've could've been me,
should've been me,
it wasn't me,
but there was so much more for you to be.
now you're six feet deep and
no one heard the screams and
you buried yourself alive,
breathe in breathe out and watch
oxygen set fire to your mind.
crystallized cyanide
romanticized suicide but
there is nothing romantic about this.
it's been a little over a month and
i still claw my way up from nightmares;
my nails are broken and jagged and
my hands are raw and ragged and
this is how i know i'll never have children.
your mother misses you, you know,
and mine didn't let me attend your funeral so
i guess this is goodbye.
you can scream for eternity but
no one can hear you from hell,
trust me,
i've been there.
if God has a hitlist he crossed you off
instead of me,
which is funny because all i do is
write goddamn poetry;
it could've could've could've been me,
should've been me,
it wasn't me,
but there was so much more for you to be.
now you're six feet deep and
no one heard the screams and
you buried yourself alive,
breathe in breathe out and watch
oxygen set fire to your mind.
Literature
.
all the words
taste like salt
on my lips,
although all the oceans
evaporated and stopped
throwing up corpses
long ago;
now all our souls
lie bloated in the
burning sand -
the sun beating
down on our heads
like a war drummer
that got lost
along with the
cause.
(there's a feast for the crows,
but I don't think they're hungry.)
Literature
It Hurts
Head buried in my hands
Silence...
Darkness...
Tears...
It's all I can do to fight how bad it hurts
It's all I can do to fight how bad
I want to be with you
When I see you, my whole world lights up.
And it's all I can do to fight back the tears
When you don't want to be with me.
When I feel like you're - not ignoring me - but,
Like just tolerating that I'm there.
Do you know how bad that hurts?
How it threatens to tear me apart
From the inside out, until I'm nothing
But alone again.
How bad it hurts, when I'm used to seeing your smiling face
Looking back at me
Like you're happy to see me too, but I don't.
The smile isn't there, or the w
Literature
XXVI.
she has forged herself
a skin of armour;
spines
of a dragon on
her tongue -
all winged
elbows, long
fingers but
bitten-down
talons.
there is
a strong spirit
in her cage
of flesh
she does not
know about -
i wish she knew
that she is
made from fire
and the winds
of courage will
always be
at her back.
(she wants her talons to grow back,
but she doesn't need them)
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Comments20
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How is it you can take something so dark and make it poetry?