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Literature Text
i will tear the sin out of you
and keep it for myself -- sit still,
it's not going to stop hurting until
i'm finished with you. breathe. it's
not going to kill you, not yet.
i want to scrape away every
layer of skin that ever drove you
to hate yourself and the heaven
that waits for you. i want to break
every bone that tells you a cry for
help is necessary here. i want to
cut every lock of hair that needs
sunlight to survive the winter,
they are weak, you don't
need them anymore.
this is humanity,
these things are physical.
they don't matter.
i will tug on your veins
until you sing like guitars do,
i will drum on your belly 'til
you realize we're preparing
for war -- do you understand
this night only cradles love
because this is the last taste
of it i'll ever get?
don't
speak.
i want to pretend i'm deaf
so that i stop fearing the
anticipated sound of bombs
that are soon to go off in
my chest, whispering the
verses of the endtimes.
each tendril of smoke
and cloud of dust will be
read by my dying flesh like
revelations, and john
can wail in regret
because i
said it
better.
and keep it for myself -- sit still,
it's not going to stop hurting until
i'm finished with you. breathe. it's
not going to kill you, not yet.
i want to scrape away every
layer of skin that ever drove you
to hate yourself and the heaven
that waits for you. i want to break
every bone that tells you a cry for
help is necessary here. i want to
cut every lock of hair that needs
sunlight to survive the winter,
they are weak, you don't
need them anymore.
this is humanity,
these things are physical.
they don't matter.
i will tug on your veins
until you sing like guitars do,
i will drum on your belly 'til
you realize we're preparing
for war -- do you understand
this night only cradles love
because this is the last taste
of it i'll ever get?
don't
speak.
i want to pretend i'm deaf
so that i stop fearing the
anticipated sound of bombs
that are soon to go off in
my chest, whispering the
verses of the endtimes.
each tendril of smoke
and cloud of dust will be
read by my dying flesh like
revelations, and john
can wail in regret
because i
said it
better.
Literature
once more with feeling
just tonight,
i will reduce myself to instincts.
when your hand settles wide and warm on the curve of my hip
i will allow myself to ease into you,
to sink into this infrequent surety -
to feel small,
(just now, just tonight)
and lay my body and my vulnerabilities bare,
trembling and receptive to your heat -
your solidity -
your mercy.
i will be reverent,
(just this, just once)
enamored of each breath,
each plane and edge,
each soft channel between
each heaving pair of ribs -
i will allow myself
(just once, just once)
to consume you,
to find myself
consumed.
(just this, just please,
just -
)
Literature
(And you love me anyway)
I trap secrets
behind onyx teeth,
creasing my wrists
with your melody.
You spill truths
from incandescent fingers,
rejoicing (lamenting) companionship
through chrome power lines.
We swap batteries and candles,
hoping we light each others' ways
while still stumbling along our own.
I get too trapped
by my life's natural disasters
to remember to celebrate
the close-earned commodities
that spill into yours.
(I want to take this moment
for the thoughts that rot to frustration
on my tongue, but this should be
about both you and me.)
I want to cradle your dreams
in my palms, the way you steady
my fears in yours. But I bleed your heart
with my (
Literature
I'll always be there...
My friends suffer
They need help
I try and I try
But nothing is working
I feel powerless
And simply useless
But I keep trying
Because I just can't
Ever
Leave them behind
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Comments11
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I think I have read this like nineteen times over now. I just keep coming back to it. basically like everyone else said, like can u stop being perf for one second