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Literature Text
compassion
is full of surrogates
like those brushing in the yard;
accidental flowers
I would grant them their aspiration
one last, exalted scream
before the crisp disintegration
to be a crystal in the honeycomb
some edge of necessity
not yet worried off to the nub
I do see you
and remember
it was me
is full of surrogates
like those brushing in the yard;
accidental flowers
I would grant them their aspiration
one last, exalted scream
before the crisp disintegration
to be a crystal in the honeycomb
some edge of necessity
not yet worried off to the nub
I do see you
and remember
it was me
Literature
metaphysical
i. open mouth
i trace the outline of my mouth and
dream prisms of prisons and
scorpion houses.
i fit myself into a box
muscles cramp spasm tear
but it's safer this way.
the bricks of my house are made of chequebooks
i want carnations
on my coffin.
i want carnations
burned at my cremation.
i am a fiery prometheus
a dying devil's desperate daughter
i am alive! alive! alive!
refocus the telescope, refocus the wreck into
something
a little more
manageable
(breath comes easy here, it's everything else that's hard)
ii. closed mouth
i'm saying, are you there?
i'm saying, are you listening?
i'm saying, look at the house we built, look at my r
Literature
Eternal suffering
Blood
And tears
Down my
Limbs
Down my
Face
Wounds
Sadness
All over
My mind
And body
That's all
I have
All
I know
There's
No hope
Nor a
Light
To guide
Me
Literature
On strength
A sunlit cobweb -
only the spider knows
how many times
it broke
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Comments14
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Fascinating.