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Literature Text
Itchy grindy nervewracked jitter
Blinds closed against the July sun
Awake, alive, annoyed with the world
Note: need beer, now, later might be
too late
Show me something good in the world
Something not monstrous and vile
Awake, drained, attuned to the noise
Note: see shrink Tuesday, call doc
re pain
River monsters deliver yesterday's news
I can't help but read again anyway
Over and over in a circle of sorrow
Note: hear the river's secrets, discuss
next class
Why's the day so bright and warm
Without you in it, should be dark and cold
Coming apart at the seams, twittering gibberish
Note: stay out of the river, causes
insanity
Blinds closed against the July sun
Awake, alive, annoyed with the world
Note: need beer, now, later might be
too late
Show me something good in the world
Something not monstrous and vile
Awake, drained, attuned to the noise
Note: see shrink Tuesday, call doc
re pain
River monsters deliver yesterday's news
I can't help but read again anyway
Over and over in a circle of sorrow
Note: hear the river's secrets, discuss
next class
Why's the day so bright and warm
Without you in it, should be dark and cold
Coming apart at the seams, twittering gibberish
Note: stay out of the river, causes
insanity
Literature
Notes
My home of cirrus
clouds and the cosmos
pinches the delicate
little silver chain
and my home is tilted
like a lung it's breathing
a Celtic song of the forest
trochaic aubade
a song of itself singing
.
I say that the celestial and the causal
is the natural
and the cause of causes is the house of houses
and when we find the answer, it will seem so obvious
Literature
just
i am everything i never wanted to be.
it's funny to realize,
five years ago i would've looked at me and thought,
"you
are the worst kind
of lost because you don't even know it,"
and now,
i see that's what i was before.
but i'm still just a fraction
of an idea
that tries so hard to show itself.
others say
i should
speak louder,
sing louder,
just
be
louder;
but i was born with vocal cords covered in
bubble wrap.
my fingers curled in,
with my arms pushing against my chest
in an x
because it marked the spot
i often fight to fill,
while
everyone else was armed with pitchforks and shovels and i clutched tightly
with my fingernails
and screamed
Literature
stomached
you blush and bruise
with sidewalks, stones,
the quiet doorways in your thighs
and the weight of your purple
tongue against mine
(a carnival of teeth)
if you swallowed the moon
with your agate jaws,
you could not be more nacreous
or divine
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You and Chaos have a funny sort of relationship, don't you?