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Literature Text
Sickness
Confines me
Poisons me
Prostrate
On the floor
I cry out
But there is no sound
Only the despair
Consuming me
I must let you go
I must be alone
I am empty without
You
But it is how it must be
My cross to bear
I bear it alone
I will drink my poison
And hope
That my heart may die
And with it my pain
as well as my love
So I can let you go.
Confines me
Poisons me
Prostrate
On the floor
I cry out
But there is no sound
Only the despair
Consuming me
I must let you go
I must be alone
I am empty without
You
But it is how it must be
My cross to bear
I bear it alone
I will drink my poison
And hope
That my heart may die
And with it my pain
as well as my love
So I can let you go.
Literature
gloaming
i speak loudly
in my head
the ghosts
well they
don't scare me
at all
nothing does
Literature
Is It Wrong?
Is it wrong
That I glance up at the clouds,
Feeling the wind through my hair,
And dream of a mystifying land
Where one can be accepted no matter what?
Is it wrong
That I choose to wear jeans down past my heels,
Baggy and ripped at the knees,
Unlike all the other boys that wear athletic
Shorts, so unscathed and clean?
Is it wrong
That I ask people about their troubles,
Sometimes doing all in my mortal power
To help them surpass the simple,
Even ones I have not defeated myself?
Is it wrong
That while the few friends I have
Dance around giddily and go to
The most extreme only to impress,
But I only hang back in silent content
Literature
Your Poetry Sucks.
Poetic verse does not sleep contently within your bones.
You are not made of Shakespearean sonnets.
Metaphors do not cling to your teeth like snowdrops,
and similes do not lurk like assassins behind those false psychic eyes.
Your veins bleed nothing but red.
And your whispers,
they will never leave galaxies
along the length of spines.
So, Dear Heart,
you can take your stars,
your full moon romances,
the many, desperate love letters,
the gag-worthy cliches-
and eat them.
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Protected under the Berne Convention. Do NOT reprint, reuse or redistribute.
You steal, I impale.
(c)2011 J Osterhaus
You steal, I impale.
(c)2011 J Osterhaus
© 2011 - 2024 retrolover
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