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Literature Text
I wasn't waiting for much. I kicked the dirt and chewed my lip, I may have even paused, but I wouldn't wait for nothing or no one.
And the clarity comes in sparse fragments. Cursed to glimpse the grin of an ever-grinning ghost. Those taffy lips tensing muscle beneath sweet, sweet moisture.
I dream when I don't notice I'm sleeping.
With all the little pieces, unattainable moments clogging my consciousness with vivid detail.
"oh here you go, you can have this"
First it was raven hair, insomnia, and poetry. He was eternal and affable, mutating my molecules with discrete immensity; influence rerouting neurons. And then there was the ecstasy, late night phone calls, and the brightest star in a midnight sky. I was the one with iceberg eyes and incurable curiosity; consciously detached and utterly enthralled.
I was everything and no one.
And the clarity comes in sparse fragments. Cursed to glimpse the grin of an ever-grinning ghost. Those taffy lips tensing muscle beneath sweet, sweet moisture.
I dream when I don't notice I'm sleeping.
With all the little pieces, unattainable moments clogging my consciousness with vivid detail.
"oh here you go, you can have this"
First it was raven hair, insomnia, and poetry. He was eternal and affable, mutating my molecules with discrete immensity; influence rerouting neurons. And then there was the ecstasy, late night phone calls, and the brightest star in a midnight sky. I was the one with iceberg eyes and incurable curiosity; consciously detached and utterly enthralled.
I was everything and no one.
Literature
before
a little while ago
maybe a couple of months or something
i wasn't drinking ; instead i was
waking up to you
every morning you would stretch
and your spine would move and i felt it all over
your skin stretched into the sun and
i saw it everywhere
but guess what, that shit was gold and
gold doesn't last and you didn't last.
i got boring and you got mean.
and you're less of a gypsy and more of
a woman and i know if i called you up tonight
said hey baby come home
how did we get here baby i'm crying on the
floor drinking lime pepsi
and this goddamn pepsi is flat. so why don't
you come home. just for the night.
you would say you h
Literature
unspoken language
As the Venetian
simplicity of romance
wilts; we shift,
like light.
There are no nouns
for what we call
'it'
in minds auto-trained
to forget, we kiss -
the
unspoken language
caught between our lips.
As it happens
I am a coward, disguising
emotion with envoi's, and
somewhere
between my tongue and
your lower lip
'it' lingers.
Literature
i shouldn't exist
you are in another room
and you cry for a person
who is not me.
i only ever cry for you
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I started writing this in September, perhaps to expunge frivolous details I could no longer afford to keep.
No One sorta used to be my nickname, and then one day Some One took No One and made her into Everything.
(this is part two of a three piece)
No One sorta used to be my nickname, and then one day Some One took No One and made her into Everything.
(this is part two of a three piece)
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It's like watching yourself withdrawing but the mind keeps getting drawn back in.