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Literature Text
she is twirling
words in vapor, salt on the road
to living in color
tiny gears pull against an anchor
bringing rust, bringing wispy reds
and greengold weeds, growing into empty
spaces that her fingers fondly find
but the heart is monochrome
words in vapor, salt on the road
to living in color
tiny gears pull against an anchor
bringing rust, bringing wispy reds
and greengold weeds, growing into empty
spaces that her fingers fondly find
but the heart is monochrome
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
Split
Run nails down my
arm; I won't let you under
my skin anymore
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