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Literature Text
every time a person feels something
it leaves a residue in the air
like they are snails with their hearts
on their backs.
all the misplaced love
is building up
and we are slowly drowning.
it leaves a residue in the air
like they are snails with their hearts
on their backs.
all the misplaced love
is building up
and we are slowly drowning.
Literature
Ethereal
My radio embellishes
November's weeping grey
with the harmonies
of far away, invisible choirs
I'm too far gone to pray,
I don't believe in heavens
full of choiring angel song.
But I can listen to the radio. I can
wish I might have been wrong.
Literature
and glory came.
he lives in the city
they wrote about in
all those
magazines and all the
newspapers, and he
still believes in being happy
and living life alive.
-
she lives in the greener
grass we dream about; except
it's only green in color
with no metaphorical
value.
-
his favorite word is hipbones
and he tries to use it
everyday but all it gets him is
funny looks on the subway.
he's not crazy; he just
likes words most
people don't know
exist.
-
her favorite song is
absolute silence because
her parents took her voice
away; but she's still
singing life like she
can speak.
she's a pretty girl; but she knows
that won't get her
anywhere in
li
Literature
What angels invented
i.
The ocean of air above
you swells with voices
deathless skippers leaving
dust of meteorites
in gusty mind-
crevices
but you, an airborne antigen
You trammel inspiration
off the tallest waters. The poems
you could have written
I go on and they go too,
skating away on pitchey ink
ii.
The ocean of water beneath
my trembling fingers your hand
closes over them so clasping
so out of breath and quiet
skin which I am carrying
on top of my skin paints
the blush of every flower
in your state opening up
to spring at once
you can put your twangy spin on stars
(but you can't keep me off alone)
iii.
The firma
Suggested Collections
11/30
so this has become more of like a poem every other day kinda thing because life's busy.
so this has become more of like a poem every other day kinda thing because life's busy.
© 2014 - 2024 injuredjaw
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