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Literature Text
your attenuate bones
in the foot of this sleeping bag
they summon up
eighty-eight goose-bumps taught to sing
evanescence in the summer(.)
we loved.
now: see-
through skin
writhing cos we were we are one
typewriter with two dry
mouths,
fifty-six detac
hed teeth
"never more than one hundred hand breadths apart and never more"
clik clakpooled
clak
against each other
against my ankles
in the foot of this sleeping bag
they summon up
eighty-eight goose-bumps taught to sing
evanescence in the summer(.)
we loved.
now: see-
through skin
for your viewing pleasurereasoning with irresponsible tendons
writhing cos we were we are one
typewriter with two dry
mouths,
fifty-six detac
hed teeth
"never more than one hundred hand breadths apart and never more"
Literature
didn't i ever tell you
ballerina shoes seethe with dust and i
am lying in the corner on a
spider-web
you spun for me with your dreams
but didn't i tell you,
didn't i ever tell you dreams are lies
and hope is just a fairy tale
it's as dead as happily-ever-after
piano keys dig into the soles of your
feet but you walk on them because
maybe, maybe, the notes will
leak through your dry, hard skin and
give you the music back
but didn't i tell you,
didn't i ever tell you music is a lonely
sound, locked up in a soul-cage
music is trapped by the bones of my heart
guitar strings hang from the ceiling
and snap themselves into your stringy
dark hair, wrenchi
Literature
Can't See Past This Skyline
But we were kids back then, arrogance a weight
cocked on jutting hips and recklessness a riot
sleeping in our bones like summer suicide or the time
we peeled the skin from the sun as if it were dried-out orange peels
curling into fresh limbs
and ate the young fire to have something more than words
burning in our throats.
Yet in the end
our muddied hands gave the horizon back to the sky, because even then
something inside us had a passion for the empty spaces that ached and ached and
ached.
You said to me:
there's nothing like having a cold bottle of pills in hand, tipping forward
as you thumb the young, naked souls of griefless g
Literature
What I Now Know.
one day you will understand:
fireworks are made of
chemistry and calculations.
they will turn to smoke
faster than they bloom.
one day you will realise that magic
(like fireworks)
is mostly lies.
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"feels like the weight of the world
like all my screaming has gone unheard
and oh, i know you don't believe in me
safe in the dark, how can you see?"
like all my screaming has gone unheard
and oh, i know you don't believe in me
safe in the dark, how can you see?"
© 2011 - 2024 londonrey
Comments98
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You are amazing and awesome and you send shivers down my spine. Reading what you write is like - I don't even know. Like those people who create miniature metropolis's out of matchsticks, but if they did it with wishbones and held it together with grass seeds.
You're just so damn wonderful.
I don't know what else to say? The idea is amazing, the way you wrote it is phenomenal, your actual technique makes my knees tremble and you're just...
Perfect.
So I'm just going to spam this over and over until I hit the limit instead:
I love you.
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Never, ever stop writing.