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Literature Text
you serve wine that intoxicates angels
with pandemonium lies
(and feed upon the
ambrosial lives of the evil)
injecting the damned with
false dreams of redemption
(but you only kill to share
the pain of mortality's dull sword)
i was born in a martyr's crypt
and fell in love with you in the maelstrom of suicide
and now
i am death with life's soul
a lover with a hater's passion
and no matter how much i tear at the skin
the flesh is still glued together with cyanide's frozen glue
sticking to my fingers like the odious
homicides of the morning dew
and you only laugh at the beautifully broken
porcelain tears of a fallen doll
thrown through heaven's glass pane windows
to land in hell's toy box
you said that you would fix her
and cure the myocardial infarction
sitting in your filthy hands
but you were right to run a knife against it
because you promised me a life
served in a golden goblet
and instead i got nostalgia
Literature
Forging Foundations
there is part of me that knows these walls
in the same ways I know
unrequited was the dream I used to tie my strings to,
unrequited was the hope I used to fill myself up,
unrequited is just a word I used to be friends with
because you've crooked your fingers
into the hooks of my jeans
and you've hooked my heart,
dangling, a stranger to safety
learning how to let someone lead--
there is a piece of me that fears these feelings
like I fear insects that sting, like I fear wildfires that rage,
like I fear porcelain dolls
with cracked faces and scarred chests
because so far in this life,
all the beautiful things I've ever held
have come to me brok
Literature
ambivalance
i will never be at peace
as you are
finally
because
i decided to live
even though it goes against every fiber of my being.
i miss you
i envy you
i hate you
but more than anything
i love you.
Literature
on a clear night
(i)
I try to be tall sugar cane
weeping warm honey and milk
burning still;
my heart keeps telling me
who I really was before.
(ii)
I let you crawl inside
and we'll pretend that feeling rage
surging through your veins
where your sins laid
is black and white.
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Lies are prettier on your lips.
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Comments26
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I like what you did with Anne Rice here. Well done.