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Literature
they don't have words for this
i.
sometimes i can't breathe because i realize
how many choices i make in a day and i become
terrified that i will never again make the right
series of decisions to make me feel whole again
ii.
once upon a time i knew who i was but lately
it feels as if i'm getting lost; i've moved to new
streets and fallen asleep to a new smell but
nothing is setting my crooked pulse right
iii.
when no one's home i fight the urge to crawl
into bed and close my eyes and relive the moments
i want back the most; i tell myself that when i
open them my life won't be just in my dreams
iv.
and i'm starting to think that maybe i took too
many ch
Literature
fragile.
All you ever wanted
was to fix me the only way you knew how
and you didn't care if you hurt me
along the way
because you knew I needed it.
You bruised me and used me
but my words cut you deeper
than you'd ever let me know.
And there was nothing to stop you
from kissing my whitened knuckles
['til I cried]
just so I'd never try to let go.
They all say you broke me, but
I think I broke you first.
Literature
Voraginous Wounds.
What I want is not anything
offered here. What I want
is jeweled red horses, chains
connecting all my organs,
a mangled music box heart.
Reality is destroying me
and something great
is seeping out
through my veins.
I inhale the smoke
and accept things as they are.
It is officially dissolved.
Promises, promises..
What I want is a nostalgia
like acid burning holes in me.
What I want is angels reaching down
from their delicate ether palace,
touching me underneath my clothes.
What I want is a mosquito net
to choke you with
and a pond to toss you in after.
What I want is to watch
a river of mucus float by
fil
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Comments6
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this is great.