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Literature Text
Train
I stand among commuters, then enter
Fall asleep, awaken in tunnels of Penn.
I see the reams of pristine glass in
Liberty Tower... Freedom Tower.
It stands above what was years
Ago a void. That void spread.
It's a remarkable tower—people
Take photos observing it through
2-inch screens. I carry three
In my pocket, so who am I to
Judge? They're next to my car
Keys with a Fullmetal Alchemist
Keychain, because I am unique
And like both Anime and Poetry.
Trainride back, a man with a
Black mustache and green Nike
Shoes says hi to me, comments
On my My Chemical Romance
Gloves. He looks at me sardonically, skeptically,
Then, once a drummer, talks music with me.
Faith no More, The Clash. He tells me
Start a band—but tells me he's too old
To drum. He's shitfaced. I think of a silent
Drum set. I think What a hole the world would be
If we didn't have power chords. I doze,
Then wake up in front of a screen
With pictures of clean jet-fighters—
Implications of war. Implications
Not murder, implies the screen.
I think of an empty cupholder.
I stand among commuters, then enter
Fall asleep, awaken in tunnels of Penn.
I see the reams of pristine glass in
Liberty Tower... Freedom Tower.
It stands above what was years
Ago a void. That void spread.
It's a remarkable tower—people
Take photos observing it through
2-inch screens. I carry three
In my pocket, so who am I to
Judge? They're next to my car
Keys with a Fullmetal Alchemist
Keychain, because I am unique
And like both Anime and Poetry.
Trainride back, a man with a
Black mustache and green Nike
Shoes says hi to me, comments
On my My Chemical Romance
Gloves. He looks at me sardonically, skeptically,
Then, once a drummer, talks music with me.
Faith no More, The Clash. He tells me
Start a band—but tells me he's too old
To drum. He's shitfaced. I think of a silent
Drum set. I think What a hole the world would be
If we didn't have power chords. I doze,
Then wake up in front of a screen
With pictures of clean jet-fighters—
Implications of war. Implications
Not murder, implies the screen.
I think of an empty cupholder.
Literature
A Dry Wind Blew
A dry wind blew, hot and dusty, over the plain.
Forks of lightning flowered in the far-off storm clouds.
Near clouds were mere cut-outs on the face of the sky.
A dry wind blew, hot and dusty, bringing with it
Stinging sand-clouds. Shadows shifted over the plain.
Forks of lightning, dry and distant, came no closer,
But, with no sound, flowered in the far-off storm clouds.
Near clouds were mere flat things, pasted, you could not see
The wind move the cut-outs on the face of the sky.
On the face of the sky, far clouds pulsed and flickered.
Near clouds were mere cut-outs. They stayed stationary.
In the far-off storm clouds, forks of lightning f
Literature
Curtains
If I could fabricate sheets, they would be made of the finest silk.
If I could make a rope, It would be of the choicest strands.
If I could tailor a suit, it would be of the darkest black, as there is no classier color.
If I could build me a house, my shutters would be yellow like a duck and made of hickory.
If I were to sew curtains for those windows, I'd make them of the crimson hair and on the panes I'd paint a picture of you.
Literature
this is goodbye
once upon a time, i was broken
i hurt so badly that i had to make
others hurt as well
and i had to make myself hurt even worse
i was scared to live and scared of life
and scar(r)ed beyond belief
i hated the heart that beat within
my fragile chest
fluttering beneath
my heaving breast
my heart, oh,
all it wanted was a chance at life
and it knew that all i wanted
was a chance to die
and so it tried to run away
it panicked and tried to flee
but i swallowed a little
blue green yellow pill
step by step by step
until it stopped, stooped
beneath the weight of the world
and the weight of my wings
after the end, i started to recover
i laughed and
Suggested Collections
NaPoWriMo-- 4/29 ~
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