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Literature Text
we do not remember the
drought in our books
when our fingers dig into the dusty soil
it all comes up
the earth regurgitates into my shaking
palms
the sun has burned them brown
i do not remember the rain but i know it
in my dirty shirt and being
empty
the way my eyes hurt
in the morning
drought in our books
when our fingers dig into the dusty soil
it all comes up
the earth regurgitates into my shaking
palms
the sun has burned them brown
i do not remember the rain but i know it
in my dirty shirt and being
empty
the way my eyes hurt
in the morning
Literature
Dandelions
i.
When my mother told me these beautiful dandelions
were nothing but weeds, I knew I was destined to
disappoint her, for I am the devil in her bed of roses.
ii.
The day she called me selfish was the same day I
learned to laugh, because I do more to make her
happy than she'll ever choose to realize.
iii.
After that teacher called and her idea of a perfect
son shattered, I reassured her that I would never
be appreciated for the beautiful person I'm not.
iv.
She dreams of seeing grandchildren I hope not to
have, but I pray she'll be gone long before I can
give her a reason to love me.
Literature
shatterglass.
Last summer we watched the moon swallow the sun and you told me violence was romantic. It was 12 in the afternoon but the sky was midnight blue, and as you spoke your hand clenched into claws around my waist. I reached down to hold your wrist but you dropped your hand to your side before I could touch you.
.
I used to think it was impossible to love someone and never really know them, but you took all those illusions when you took my hand. Sometimes we sat opposite each other in starbucks and you faded away, just staring into the sky, your soul stolen to some distant place. Even when you were next to me I could feel the space between us lik
Literature
syncope
I am in a coma, and this seems like it's happening but it isn't. I am living in my head- a universe where I'm 18 years old but I'll wake up 36. I can see gravity, I can see the wind, I can see all the universes packed inside everyone's heads and it's tiring. it's a loud place here. in my head, I can't react to the environment around me the same way in reality, I'm not moving and I'm living off of the life that the machines give to me. I am disconnected and dead, but sadly not dead enough. I will open my eyes and everything will be different.
cold cement beneath my bare feet. I take this poison every morning. the doctor says it'll help and he
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hi
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Comments4
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i love this
i like how you force me to think about what you're saying and what you're really saying.
i like how you force me to think about what you're saying and what you're really saying.