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Literature Text
i.
you had fire in your hair
and on the tip of your
fingers and i used you
as my radiator; i used you
to keep me warm on the
nights of thinning blankets and
of snow wandering through the
cracks in my windows.
ii.
when summer came
you forgot how to cool
down. your hair was
still burning, your fingertips
blistered—i cowered when
you touched me.
iii.
you whispered strange things
that summer, your hot breath
like a blowtorch on my neck.
you wiped droplets off your
forehead. “dogs can’t sweat,” you said
and i laughed because i was
so afraid of the pores above my lip,
threatening to spit at you. i didn’t want you
to think the dampness of my
face meant that i couldn’t
handle your fire.
iv.
i don’t tan—i only burn, and i came
away from that summer with scars
on my skin. i couldn’t escape you,
i couldn’t escape your burning building:
every door was breathing fire, but I
wasn’t even trying to leave.
v.
i sit, still, on the wooden floor,
letting myself burn.
you had fire in your hair
and on the tip of your
fingers and i used you
as my radiator; i used you
to keep me warm on the
nights of thinning blankets and
of snow wandering through the
cracks in my windows.
ii.
when summer came
you forgot how to cool
down. your hair was
still burning, your fingertips
blistered—i cowered when
you touched me.
iii.
you whispered strange things
that summer, your hot breath
like a blowtorch on my neck.
you wiped droplets off your
forehead. “dogs can’t sweat,” you said
and i laughed because i was
so afraid of the pores above my lip,
threatening to spit at you. i didn’t want you
to think the dampness of my
face meant that i couldn’t
handle your fire.
iv.
i don’t tan—i only burn, and i came
away from that summer with scars
on my skin. i couldn’t escape you,
i couldn’t escape your burning building:
every door was breathing fire, but I
wasn’t even trying to leave.
v.
i sit, still, on the wooden floor,
letting myself burn.
Literature
When I Disappear
Everything is void
And the void is but me
The mind's sense of reality
Is a naive fabrication
There's no meaning
In this land of make-believe
In its hollow stones
There is no purpose
The all-defying
Rules of relativity
The all-defining
Sickness of untruth
A cold fatigue
Takes hold of my body
A free fall
- There should be no I
A downfall
- Who is the one feeling
When even this loneliness
Is a mere delusion?
Why exist at all
If existence is infinite
A monstrous complexity
Beyond comprehension
Why keep breathing
When it's simply energy
Moving in and out
Pulsing through, transformed
But in essence all the same?
Literature
talent
like a shell
she clasped her pearl inside
it wasn’t safe
Literature
Ghost
I’m a ghost
A hologram of what should be
In-between realities
I seek a shell acceptable
My spectacle
For crowds of cruel monstrosities
My rehearsed exhibition
For their rotten hopes
A timeless simulation
Of simulated afterthoughts
My fear has been prepared
For tortures unforeseen
Addicted
To their false promises
I’ve bled out
The little I had stored
Now I shed my halo
I tear my mindset apart
Without a broken past
There is nothing to desire
A reflection no more
I am free to be
Corporeal
Unchained
What I have always been
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Comments19
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nights of thinning blankets and
of snow wandering through the
cracks in my windows.
what beautiful imagery. this is quite a gorgeous poem.
of snow wandering through the
cracks in my windows.
what beautiful imagery. this is quite a gorgeous poem.