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Literature Text
Dear Riot,
It was your precarious posture that threw me:
You both sat and stood so dangerously.
Even as I swore to myself I'd realign those hips,
Your heart promised your hands you'd mangle me.
I sliced through ancient scars to resurrect my mob-mentality,
To purge my 'kingdom' of your peach-sweet tyranny.
My self-destruction leaves you pleading the fifth and toasting unaffectedness.
Don't let your facade fool you, darling.
You never minded that I'd always been a few Sunday Mornings short of tangible.
Ah, but I thought you did, and who knew you better?
If I am a liar it's because I had to lie to keep a person I didn't love around.
I've been lying to her all my life.
The sweatshirt isn't broken, it just has two zippers.
I just thought maybe you'd want to know.
One way streets are two way streets for the suicidal.
Keep your eyes open this time.
It was your precarious posture that threw me:
You both sat and stood so dangerously.
Even as I swore to myself I'd realign those hips,
Your heart promised your hands you'd mangle me.
- [we D E F A C E D the Baldwin in my mother's house, lifting priceless keys with dirt-laced nails, re-carving those seven ivories, into things like thrift-store love.]
I sliced through ancient scars to resurrect my mob-mentality,
To purge my 'kingdom' of your peach-sweet tyranny.
My self-destruction leaves you pleading the fifth and toasting unaffectedness.
Don't let your facade fool you, darling.
You never minded that I'd always been a few Sunday Mornings short of tangible.
Ah, but I thought you did, and who knew you better?
If I am a liar it's because I had to lie to keep a person I didn't love around.
I've been lying to her all my life.
The sweatshirt isn't broken, it just has two zippers.
I just thought maybe you'd want to know.
One way streets are two way streets for the suicidal.
Keep your eyes open this time.
Literature
To London
Gypsy hopefuls once told me,
there are flights leaving for
any destination
at any given instant
Upon sizing up our town with
a fingernail
did you realise how little
our frustrations were?
I spoke about this ineffable feeling
of stepping out of one tub
and into new water.
The hotel was done up nicely,
chandeliers and polished English accents.
Labels aside they still mixed
milk into their coffee
and had toast with jam and butter.
I was living under the impression
that most of the Internet
came from my same slice of city pie,
conveniently forgetting about
the undersea cables.
I loathed the lack of vernacular
sentence s
Literature
Love or to Believe
I've sought consolation in your need of my hands,
Believing my heart depends on you like the love in your eyes I feel,
Your breath chasing whispers of things I long for,
Or simply something to fill my soul.
I've dreamed of finding you face to face with me after kissing you,
And when you finally saved me,
I wondered if my heart could hold you more than miss you,
Sing of waves of desires that might be or to simply living to believe.
So I held you today as treasuringly as I could,
Sinking your smile to memory,
As I realized...
My heart has already been subscribed to you in order to believe.
Literature
London
the city glows
bright copper, a scandal in
oil colours,
a luminous quivering waste
of fog and smoke.
I feel on my skin
the harsh glare of street lights,
a thick caking of
make-up, the lingering
sting
of a parting kiss.
these streets are a string
of catastrophes,
a bright orgiastic tumbling,
the future glinting red
in a wine glass.
Suggested Collections
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"Wake up, now it's over, just tell me it's ok to die"
"Wake up, now it's over, just tell me it's ok to die"
© 2010 - 2024 londonrey
Comments68
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"Your heart promised your hands you'd mangle me," is a gorgeous line. Heck, most of these are gorgeous lines. I'm just jealous I didn't think of them first. XD