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Literature Text
Lay me to sleep on the warm summer curbs.
I want the skyscrapers in my bones
And their light beneath my nails.
I want a burgundy August strung between my teeth
So I can suck the seconds from the season
And smile like September.
Literature
six steps to fixing you
step one
cry. scream. bang your fists against the walls
that keep you locked inside.
kick your feet in the air. tell your sister she's stupid
and wrong and that you've never loved her.
cry. scream. apologize via him to you.
let your tears catch on your lashes
until you can no longer see anything but your own
demise. taste the bitterness left in
your mouth from your own bitching and rot in it.
step two
break a mug. break two. kick
the pieces around the kitchen floor and cry some more.
break a plate. break a cup. break a bowl.
break a finger because nothing can take away this
sort of pain. you are empty and yet
you are filled with
Literature
It Is In The Doing
I know what she thinks I do in the bathroom when I take a little too long,
when I'm a little too quiet.
After all, I'm a healthy teenager with access to the internet, what else could I be doing?
She knocks on the door and asks, "Hey, what are you doing?"
Smile, my dear reader.
Chuckle a little.
Sometimes she's right.
But sometimes... Sometimes I'm on the floor or pressed hard against the wall, my heart a little too fast, my breath a little too quick... my chest a little too tight as I try to keep the sound of steadily falling tears from echoing beyond the door. As I try to keep pretences to the outside world that I do not cry, that noth
Literature
Oblivion Songs
Oblivion Songs
I’ve arranged all of my memories
Into photos and put them
Upon my wall, then
Sat down in my great armchair
And gazed upon them all.
My memories aren’t chronological, but instead linked by scraps of string, reaching across the yellowing wallpaper like the silk strands of a spider’s web. I’m older now, and I do this mainly as a way to waste my time as I sit in this great house that I worked my whole life for, now empty, and think of what could have been altered.
In my study, books sit as my audience, thousands of them. Three thousand four hundred and sixty two. I counted them last week. A fire cackles
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actual favourite I'm considering getting this tattooed (with your permission obvs)