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Literature Text
Dear half-past-midnight girl,
you’ve been swallowed up in space junk,
American debris
sparse real-ity
notions of welfare; notions
far gone.
He was in his cups, drunkblind
stumbling stupid
when he wrote honey on your skin
and smiled through open vessels
(your deceit,
his conceit)
---
but you,
in splendor, dreamlike
deep rooted healing touch
you burn ultraviolet
you’ve been swallowed up in space junk,
American debris
sparse real-ity
notions of welfare; notions
far gone.
He was in his cups, drunkblind
stumbling stupid
when he wrote honey on your skin
and smiled through open vessels
(your deceit,
his conceit)
---
but you,
in splendor, dreamlike
deep rooted healing touch
you burn ultraviolet
Literature
consecrate
authenticity an arsenic
in morning coffee, in the smiles
pressed like ironed laundry,
because I feel like one wrong breath,
one wrong kiss between glossed lips and soft jaws
and I will be nailed to a cross
deception a shame rising like steam,
where teeth grind against each other
like clockwork gears, tick tick ticking
while the tongue kisses the roof of its cathedral
like a prayer to gods yet to be named
because her face is a mosaic window
shining the sin out of love
Literature
no room
I am so full of me
there is no room
for you in here.
You can be out
there, alongside me,
but there is no room in here.
The hotel is full.
I am the Anna Madrigal
of my own soul.
So you be you
and I will be me.
If there is connection,
I will cherish it.
If there is not,
I will not miss it.
This does not diminish
my love and devotion,
nor your own to me.
It just makes it real.
Literature
looking inward
And then the day came
The day my mind opened
Just the smallest of a break
So that I could see inside my own thoughts,
As if I were an outsider looking in.
And what I discovered
Was truly disturbing...
A Pandoras box
Of jumbled thoughts
Of half planned ideas.
This tiny crack revealed
A child's misunderstanding
Of what was true
And what was not.
I saw that I allowed others
To control my every action
My every thought
As if they owned me.
I saw how I let others lead me/use me.
How I trusted so easily
To totally trust
Without reason. I saw the people I had let into my life
I saw them as they really were
Life suckers who had almost drained
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I was trying to write a villanelle and it sucked and I took vicious shears to it. This is work-in-progress found poetry of a sort, which I cleverly annoyingly PRETENTIOUSLY alluded to in the title. The original poem meant something else entirely but it was an utter disaster of meter-muckery, so I put it through the paper-poetry-shredder.
I've come to like what came out.
Does the stuff after the cessation fit? Does it help the piece, or is it more complete without it?
I've come to like what came out.
Does the stuff after the cessation fit? Does it help the piece, or is it more complete without it?
© 2014 - 2024 nawkaman
Comments11
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this is gorgeous <3