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Literature Text
I thought I’d give you a try when I saw you swirling by with your flowered
arms and sunshine smile. My favorite games are the ones I can’t win, and you
seemed to be a loss at first sight.
you caught my eye with your predator vibe, so I took a jump and without any plan
of attack we tumbled into playing hide and seek between your blankets.
there was a boy I loved once and he was catastrophic. but these days I’m going home
wearing your hoodie rather than his skin in the alley behind his house. and it feels
like freedom to smile him goodbye without a heartache-hit because you’ve chased his
demons out of my veins with your hot air balloon whispers and light orange kisses.
arms and sunshine smile. My favorite games are the ones I can’t win, and you
seemed to be a loss at first sight.
you caught my eye with your predator vibe, so I took a jump and without any plan
of attack we tumbled into playing hide and seek between your blankets.
there was a boy I loved once and he was catastrophic. but these days I’m going home
wearing your hoodie rather than his skin in the alley behind his house. and it feels
like freedom to smile him goodbye without a heartache-hit because you’ve chased his
demons out of my veins with your hot air balloon whispers and light orange kisses.
Literature
scintillating.
It is August and I am alive.
I am breathing but the sensation becomes invigorating. The air tastes lithe, cleanly - like light pouring into my lungs.
I find it rejuvenating; youth electro-charging my slackened flaccid muscles.
I feel you; an impossibility. It's high voltage, electric eels, hissing transformers.
It's a spark.
Literature
roots
amnesiac etymology— it whispers
forget me,
forget
I am to be
disposed— it says
to be loathed, my
blackened alphabetic impregnators,
torn off
sentimental etymology— it lisps
never forget me,
never
I am to be
cherished— it longs
to be stroked, my
hurtfully worded white trees,
ripped
a
p
a
r
t
[ too late ]
Literature
Crucial Perspective
Who are you to solidify me?
Crisscross vertigo
sloppy, still shameless.
At least it's easier.
Fuck it.
She knew much more than I could say.
Why wait for assistance?
Get on your feet.
____________
( partially.
please don't make me admit it.
she is slamming through my soul;
unfortunate and profound. )
Crucial filament distorting imagery.
She is a tumor
a malignant mound of flesh.
Spoken with idealistic assurance
Promises projected from warped paradigms
She becomes less of what I see, and more of what I know.
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Comments3
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That was good. It's nice to see more poetry from you.