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Literature Text
i still try to die tiny deaths,
destroy tiny pieces,
because i cannot live with the whole.
tiny deaths- some stomach, some hair, some nails.
fingertips losing pieces, i will crumble.
embrace yourself- all of yourself, the truth of who you are.
but i cannot accept that i am nothing i want to be.
i wanted to die at the kotel today, just right there,
but i could not kill myself.
i could not, because it is too late.
but i wanted to stand forever in that dark satin wind,
and just be disappeared to nothing.
i wanted fire and explosions,
a bomb to rip me to shreds.
i wanted a bullet through the head
through the heart
but i did not want to kill myself.
destroy tiny pieces,
because i cannot live with the whole.
tiny deaths- some stomach, some hair, some nails.
fingertips losing pieces, i will crumble.
embrace yourself- all of yourself, the truth of who you are.
but i cannot accept that i am nothing i want to be.
i wanted to die at the kotel today, just right there,
but i could not kill myself.
i could not, because it is too late.
but i wanted to stand forever in that dark satin wind,
and just be disappeared to nothing.
i wanted fire and explosions,
a bomb to rip me to shreds.
i wanted a bullet through the head
through the heart
but i did not want to kill myself.
Literature
New York Times
Polished her nails red and ran away with a copy of the New York Times.
She never was of that much use to me, but I believed her to be better than that, all the mystery, all the calamities that she would never speak of made me believe that she would do more than simply walk out of my life.
She left the netting of her wedding gown over the shower curtain rod, the rest of the dress was gone. That was the only dress that she had kept during the year, every week she would buy a new one, and once bought she would throw her old ones into the alley on the side of our apartment. She never stayed there long, but she would look out of our kitchen win
Literature
Caution: Flammable
I've got shivers in my bones
and glass hearts on my sleeve.
We're oh-so-breakable with our
see-through skin and paperthin
dreams
[and I'm screaming for somebody
to please come save me. Please.]
--
Scattered promises and chemical
clouds are all that we have left of
the good old days and I'm
afraid no one's going to take us
seriously.
[We need promiscuous lives and
wandering eyes before anyone
will look our way.]
--
There are seventeen reasons
why and eighteen reasons why
not. I'm losing my way and there's
no Ctrl-Alt-Del to help me now.
[Please keep one finger on the
Esc at all times.]
--
We're wishing on empty wells an
Literature
the pittsburgh pulse
i'm not a city boy.
i don't know what brought me out here, to a city that has a heartbeat and rumbles so thoroughly that when you lie awake in bed at night, it's almost as if you can feel it rise and fall with every breath it takes. i'm useless at falling asleep to something else's heartbeat because it begins to drown mine out and i forget the feel of mine and i forget if i was ever alive to begin with. lately every morning and every night begins and ends with the city's pulse and i can't remember the last time i heard my own blood pumping through my own veins.
i've started living in my own head to get away from the clutter of the city bloc
Suggested Collections
if i ever wrote anything cohesive anymore, maybe i would post things.
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Comments9
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It's almost as if you've taken a walk inside my head and wrote a poem about what you saw there. These words... they relate to me so, so well. Only you write them far better than I ever could. <3