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Literature Text
s
eg
men
t
me like an orange
or maybe a grapefruit
somehow the latter seems more appropriate-
cos i bite back.
like
cancer.
oh, you know, cos it's always
cancer.
nothing romantic about it,
nothing romantic about t h i s
i loved you for your hair
now it's gone and
i.
am.
stuck.
everysingleskincell that i've got is
swollen so i can't get this
---forsaken
band.
off.
in other words:
i can't leave and you
won't die and
i'm out of excuses for me,
i'm out of excuses to s t a y
eg
men
t
me like an orange
or maybe a grapefruit
somehow the latter seems more appropriate-
cos i bite back.
like
cancer.
oh, you know, cos it's always
cancer.
nothing romantic about it,
nothing romantic about t h i s
i loved you for your hair
now it's gone and
i.
am.
stuck.
- between
- this stale-air waiting room with plastic on the chairs instead of leather, well, i hate leather anyway so.
- the barred walls of your crib
everysingleskincell that i've got is
swollen so i can't get this
---forsaken
band.
off.
in other words:
i can't leave and you
won't die and
i'm out of excuses for me,
i'm out of excuses to s t a y
Literature
Bittersweet
"Darling, what makes you love me?" The question is so simply stated, in her purple velvet voice, as she reclines in his strong arms, and lets the bittersweet smoke caress their limbs, pulling them closer together.
His long inhale, as the toxins coat the soft tissue of his black lungs, is audible, as he mulls over the question before answering.
"I love how you can make insanity look beautiful." He states, recreating the day he came home, in his mind. The day he found her telling stories to the static on the television. The day he started to question if his joking label of "crazy" may possibly ring true.
"I love how I can tell when you're ha
Literature
Tourniquet
I stand crying over the kitchen sink
reeling back and forth so hard
that I hit the tap
and watch as my broken dreams
spill out of a fresh gash.
I spend my free time searching through spare fantasies
for a tourniquet; anything
to stop the flow of thought.
Its funny how I fight to forget us,
and struggle to remember you.
Every so often I cant recall
the way you drug your feet as you walked
or exactly how much I loved your voice.
Im losing you again...
Just another dropped call
on the worlds most reliable network
because all I am is a number;
a few digits
not worth remembering
So as I run mine through my hair
and let out
Literature
howmanytimesi'vebeenbroken
prettier without makeup my ass.
you only say that because
you like to see the s c a r s
and be reminded of how many
times you have made me
f a l l a p a r t
Suggested Collections
running with unretractable claws
© 2011 - 2024 londonrey
Comments136
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The first few lines are great. I love how you come at the concept of "segmented". To me, this is a case of onomatopeia at its finest. You don't see onomatopeia used lot in poetry because it tends to be clumsy, almost brutish. Since you modified the concept of the literary device slightly and pulled it off smoothly, in a way that can easily be read and understood, brava.
The rest of the stanza is sweet to me - a little cheeky, a little quirky. I like that you found a way to shorted because to cos instead of cuz. The latter, more common shortening seems...inedpt. I don't take a poem as seriously after I find a word like cuz in it. But cos is much more elegant.
I like 5th as well, especially the last three lines.
i.
am.
stuck.
I like this, because the way you postition the words and punctuation...the only way I can describe it is like the flow of the poem gets caught her. Not one. Not two. But three times. stuck.
And then the second-to-last...ah. I think my favourite. It's such a raw feeling here - so short and simple, almost like the writer wants to get it out of their head as soon as possible, because they're ashamed of it. I can hear the voice this would be said in in my head. Throat a little bit tight, constricting the air and making all the words sound just a bit higher, just a bit weaker.
just a bit
more
desperate.
Another great one, London. Keep them coming.
-Frankie
The rest of the stanza is sweet to me - a little cheeky, a little quirky. I like that you found a way to shorted because to cos instead of cuz. The latter, more common shortening seems...inedpt. I don't take a poem as seriously after I find a word like cuz in it. But cos is much more elegant.
I like 5th as well, especially the last three lines.
i.
am.
stuck.
I like this, because the way you postition the words and punctuation...the only way I can describe it is like the flow of the poem gets caught her. Not one. Not two. But three times. stuck.
And then the second-to-last...ah. I think my favourite. It's such a raw feeling here - so short and simple, almost like the writer wants to get it out of their head as soon as possible, because they're ashamed of it. I can hear the voice this would be said in in my head. Throat a little bit tight, constricting the air and making all the words sound just a bit higher, just a bit weaker.
just a bit
more
desperate.
Another great one, London. Keep them coming.
-Frankie