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Literature Text
i hope you know i don't love you
and i think about you every single day
no, i'd never want you right here again
because the reality of that is so messed up it's
not even poetic or beautiful.
but the arch in my side and the space
by my head,
i think about you every single day.
and i think about you every single day
no, i'd never want you right here again
because the reality of that is so messed up it's
not even poetic or beautiful.
but the arch in my side and the space
by my head,
i think about you every single day.
Literature
realized I was not a masochist
as I stand here, suffocating, I wonder whats next.
will I make it out alive?
what do I look like?
are my lips swollen?
do I still have lips?
what are lips?
-
I am leaking raindrops and dripping tonights dinner into the living room below me. I am bleeding tears out of my mouth and puke from my eyes. I swear, I cant stop bleeding, but Im not bleeding blood- Im bleeding purple pigments- Im bleeding bags under my eyes; Im holding these bags so tightly in my hands that Im bruising sunsets under my eyes, and he just watches me in the sky.
I tell myself to set. just set like a sunset; just fall
Literature
we could be like venn diagrams
i fall down a lot
and while i'm laying back to the ground, somewhat starry-eyed with both my palms slightly grazed, i've been reduced to trying to explain the size of the sky to you. this is what i do when i have other things i should be saying but can't cough up right now. instead i'm mumbling about how the clouds have been wringing the bright blues of the sky dry with sapphire ribbons of raindrops for days. or about when you meet me at the shore and send shivers down my spine, all i can think about is how the sky never ends. i want to stand up and explain to you that i like my lightning without thunder and that i want whatever it is that's
Literature
We say we've never...
I awake shuddering,
windows thrown wide open.
Cold and alone,
I spend the first five minutes
of every day
feeling old.
Sometimes things go according to plan,
but sometimes we adapt our plans accordingly.
We fix emotions like a crooked horse race.
We tinker with the past 'til it blinks out
like a fading star, and we are
free to scribble any future we want
in the spot where our integrity used to be.
We assure ourselves it's all for the best -
meanwhile, the clock just won't stop laughing.
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the kids are all fucked up
they're broken and they're screaming
they keep posting sad songs
and the keep crying to the rest of us
who are just as fucked, and just as fake
and just a little better at cramming all emotion
behind whatever mask we choose.
they're broken and they're screaming
they keep posting sad songs
and the keep crying to the rest of us
who are just as fucked, and just as fake
and just a little better at cramming all emotion
behind whatever mask we choose.
© 2012 - 2024 crashcoursewomb
Comments1
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I love this so so much !