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Literature Text
My life is a joke and
I’m not laughing anymore,
But I swear I’m trying
I really am-
it’s just that
This town has ingrained itself
Into my lungs
To the point where
Pollution is anally fucking me
Right now;
And that’s not poetic,
But it’s true
and it’s honest
But honesty is over rated;
And the truth like god
sounds better in theory
I’m not laughing anymore,
But I swear I’m trying
I really am-
it’s just that
This town has ingrained itself
Into my lungs
To the point where
Pollution is anally fucking me
Right now;
And that’s not poetic,
But it’s true
and it’s honest
But honesty is over rated;
And the truth like god
sounds better in theory
Literature
the arsonist
it is what it is.
I want to set that phrase on fire.
Pour some gasoline on each letter
till they reek of volatility
till they are itching for ignition, for agency
to burn and lick and singe.
I want to catch her mind alight,
each redwood-high issue to smolder
and I want each eye to brighten
like a freshly-stoked furnace
her words to be shot-off sparks
glowing in the night.
for every shrug
I want dynamite to liven
up the shoulders that have
lowered with the eyelids
till the whole body is a half-vision,
my kindle, these half-dreams
and one day I’ll find the match
to set the mind to passion
and she’ll wake up with a woosh,
a wild won
Literature
novel
there’s tea you still need to drink.
you left it on the counter again, because you’re
always forgetting where you put it.
it’s probably cold by now, but
it’s there for whenever you’re ready.
here’s a blanket to lose yourself in.
you don’t have to give it back.
here’s another book i think
will make you cry if i ever find the courage
to give it to you. i’ve underlined every
line that made me want to scream, that made me
want to rip out my hair and destroy everything
beautiful about myself, that made me want to
drive across a desert in the middle of the night,
that made me fall in love wit
Literature
I can't write poetry for dead girls.
there are too
many pills in this
world and too
much misery in
the human heart
but that didn't mean
that you could just
up and leave when
we both know it
could have gotten better
and i miss you like
a wolf misses her pack
or a goddamn dragon misses
her fire and i'm sorry
that i can't give you
a bouquet of jasmines
(they were your
favorite, after all,
because that was
the only princess
with a pet tiger)
because poppies are
too cliche and i'm
sorry i wasn't there
when all you needed
was a hug and for someone
to whisper "it's okay,
you're perfect enough
for me, don't listen
to that junkie bitch
who just happened to
give birth to you" and did
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so here's something, i tried. it's shit but it felt good to vent.
the line "pollution is anally fucking me right now" is courtesy of an old frined of mine, she screamed it when she slipped and fell into a puddle when we were out in london, i thought it was hilarious.
© 2013 - 2024 grew-up-a-screw-up
Comments8
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I like.