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Literature Text
Dear Peter,
The space between us is a living creature,
saber-toothed & homely,
a hangman's grip in its ill-shapen eyes-
nightmarish, sure, yet,
defeated by my one-track-minded shrug.
The space between us is a living creature,
machete-clawed & restless.
yellow lines weren't meant for feet
like I wasn't meant for you
but
let nature pity the beast who tries to stop me walking down the middle of every street between y o u a n d m e
Love,
London
The space between us is a living creature,
saber-toothed & homely,
a hangman's grip in its ill-shapen eyes-
nightmarish, sure, yet,
defeated by my one-track-minded shrug.
- Journeys with missions are waltzes on two feet; I keep in step, nocturnal eyes pealed and snow-glazed. Dozens of night-light headlights gleam like the heaven I'll never see.
The space between us is a living creature,
machete-clawed & restless.
yellow lines weren't meant for feet
like I wasn't meant for you
but
let nature pity the beast who tries to stop me walking down the middle of every street between y o u a n d m e
Love,
London
Literature
tetnis
her skin bruises like storm clouds, cuts like lightning
and her skeleton aches for different reasons every day.
the blood on her knees matches the blush on her cheeks
and she thinks she's in love.
she starts to think she feels butterflies, but different
they're moths, attacking and decaying her insides
her liver is shutting down and she can't eat anymore
but the heart beat barely hurts
she looks into his pretty brown eyes and they're so
sad, so fucking sad she just wants to hold his fragile
face between her fingers but he's sand, he's water vapor
she blinks and he's barely there
he has scars like her, though his are less casu
Literature
----
i wish i could singe my words
to your body;
maybe then i could
keep track of them.
if i could wound you,
split your skin and write
into the ice-scabs
run elastic through the seams
and tug,
until i am compressed
to a sugar pill,
small enough to keep in
the crook of your elbow
past the sun's death.
i want to remain.
woven into your various systems
and whispering through dishes,
wrinkles in your palm,
enveloped in the quietness
of lamp beams,
blinding and naked.
i want to keep you up at night,
have one-sided conversations
disintegrate into your memory,
into the burble of your constant mind.
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
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Comments112
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"Journeys with missions are waltzes on two feet;
I keep in step, nocturnal eyes pealed and snow-glazed.
Dozens of night-light headlights gleam like the heaven I'll never see."
I can't stress this enough: I love. your brain.
I keep in step, nocturnal eyes pealed and snow-glazed.
Dozens of night-light headlights gleam like the heaven I'll never see."
I can't stress this enough: I love. your brain.