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Literature Text
and all the girls today:
with their bird bones
their waifish bird bones
their broken bird bones
their riot-cries
their crossed t's and dotted i's
their secrets and their lies;
they're glowing like fireflies and I'll never be rid
of their batting jewel-dust eyes -
their eyes as wide as the skies,
their eyes slicing me slant-wise.
with their bird bones
their waifish bird bones
their broken bird bones
their riot-cries
their crossed t's and dotted i's
their secrets and their lies;
they're glowing like fireflies and I'll never be rid
of their batting jewel-dust eyes -
their eyes as wide as the skies,
their eyes slicing me slant-wise.
Literature
I Am More Than BPD
Don't tell me you know me better
than the people who've known me
for years. I know me too, and I know
to trust them with my sanity.
Don't tell me I don't need the hospital--
I wouldn't be here
if I didn't need the hospital. This is not
a playground and I am not
stupid. My emotional appendix
has burst and reality
tastes of copper; don't tell me
this is just
attention seeking.
All requests for help
involve seeking attention.
The patient whose leg is broken
screams for pain killers
but I am only kneeling
and asking you to help me
stay alive.
Don't tell me I am being irrational
when you are basing this
on a label only.
I am capable of great
Literature
Abortifacient
Zeus blows over
like the paper house
of your childhood,
and it’s never nice
to see god lose, but
sometimes he falls
like a thunderbolt -
comb-fingered,
and smoothing
every face flat into boxes,
and it’s never nice
to see god cry, but
sometimes he spills
like the memories
dropped from cardboard
flaps, and it cuts about
as sharp as the edge
of broken dreams.
(and it’s never nice
to see god break, but
sometimes: he shatters
like cathedrals)
Literature
Butterfly Sundae
Mr. Dipple runs the ice cream shop a few blocks from the school. I like going there because the words and flavors mash up in weird ways. The word strawberry tastes like peaches; chocolate is cashews; pistachio is vanilla, and vanilla is oddly floral. It’s like getting a double scoop for the price of a single.
Mr. Dipple tastes like butterscotch. I like that, because butterscotch is the same color as his mustache and the stripes underneath his apron. He’s Oliver’s grandfather, so that’s where he took me. Out, I mean. Like, not really a date, but kind of a date, you know? No hand holding or anything, but he did open the
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I don't often try rhyming poetry, but this came to me almost as a song.
Inspired, oddly, by this photo by Julia Trotti.
She is known here as vampirezombie
If you feel like giving critique:
Does a feeling of frustration or jealousy come across?
Is it odd to have the repetition of "bird bones" followed by all rhyming lines?
Does the last line sound off-meter?
Inspired, oddly, by this photo by Julia Trotti.
She is known here as vampirezombie
If you feel like giving critique:
Does a feeling of frustration or jealousy come across?
Is it odd to have the repetition of "bird bones" followed by all rhyming lines?
Does the last line sound off-meter?
© 2010 - 2024 Sora-Seraph
Comments14
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i like the rhyme and flow of it.