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Literature Text
i)you curl your knees like a seashell,
a hermit crab wrapped in human skin, you drag yourself
from place to place searching
for a better home than these rags
waiting for someone with the suns in their eyes to catch you
and change you and press their
fingerprints into the wet clay of you
ii)cannibal, your teeth are worn
you hunt over your shoulder for something
a puzzle piece like you, with holes and gaps where you have
spears and thoughts that don't fit
to plug yourself into the raw electricity of them
and short them out
not with a whimper, but a bang
fireworks, or maybe just fires.
iii)the party lights are scattered like stars
and she puts them out with a breath and a crushed paper cup and
he watches her like his life depends
like she snatched his heart when she brushed past him
and he stays close, not wanting to snap
the veins and arteries she has tangled around her wrist
her eyes snap up and their jigsaw
snaps into place
iv)he remembers her in his dreams and her
kisses are the monster under his bed and in his closet and
just behind his heavy lids
the sun rises and he gasps away from her subconscious clutches
again, and he wonders who he would be
if she hadn't folded him to fit around her
then torn the paper up
v)she wipes lipstick across her mouth and
she doesn't think about him, planning instead
where she will watch the sunset from tonight, and she
crosses her fingers and blows the mirror a kiss
it is the memorial war of what she was, and the names
of her toys are scrawled around the edges
for her to mourn, for her to remember, for her to forget
a hermit crab wrapped in human skin, you drag yourself
from place to place searching
for a better home than these rags
waiting for someone with the suns in their eyes to catch you
and change you and press their
fingerprints into the wet clay of you
ii)cannibal, your teeth are worn
you hunt over your shoulder for something
a puzzle piece like you, with holes and gaps where you have
spears and thoughts that don't fit
to plug yourself into the raw electricity of them
and short them out
not with a whimper, but a bang
fireworks, or maybe just fires.
iii)the party lights are scattered like stars
and she puts them out with a breath and a crushed paper cup and
he watches her like his life depends
like she snatched his heart when she brushed past him
and he stays close, not wanting to snap
the veins and arteries she has tangled around her wrist
her eyes snap up and their jigsaw
snaps into place
iv)he remembers her in his dreams and her
kisses are the monster under his bed and in his closet and
just behind his heavy lids
the sun rises and he gasps away from her subconscious clutches
again, and he wonders who he would be
if she hadn't folded him to fit around her
then torn the paper up
v)she wipes lipstick across her mouth and
she doesn't think about him, planning instead
where she will watch the sunset from tonight, and she
crosses her fingers and blows the mirror a kiss
it is the memorial war of what she was, and the names
of her toys are scrawled around the edges
for her to mourn, for her to remember, for her to forget
Literature
at large
at birth, we are starving artists
an open pot, a new room
elbow deep in sand and paint
praying for a masterpiece but
losing hair off brushes
at concerts, we are cities
a waving roar in time
calls to action, calls to
greatness no one follows
we are a meeting in lungs
and arms and song.
at friendship we are two a.m.
whispers on the phone
a danger, a place
of protection, a warmth
to our cold bones. we are
advice. we are
not always right.
at work we are chants, rattles
moving mouths to an un-sound
each arm a lifted weight, each
verb a heavy machine. we are
drowsy, and sometimes-
we are forgotten.
at age we are homes, cook
Literature
thoughts of you
i would like to remember you by your silences, by the tiny nuances and way you wrote your words slanted. i hold onto the moments at night when i am neither sad nor lonely without you, and i always wish they would stay a bit longer. you were like my favourite ring that i wore everyday, and then suddenly one day you were gone; lost to a sink or a street sewer.
i will always think of you as a piece of art-strokes of colour and longing and mess all balled up into one tiny portrait. you are a thought in my heart that is always warm with remembrance and peace. sometimes i wonder if you think of me at night, if in your heart you remember me as a so
Literature
Something like fate, they said
I never did like the way you would swing your car around those curves by my house when you drove me home in the middle of the night. I was never one to be cautious, but with you I felt like the world was rushing away and we were just speeding to keep up.
I don't like to say "we", you know, I don't like to say "us". But most times, I don't know what to say; that boy and I, that thief and I, that breaker of promises, that killer of dreams, that boy outside my window when I'm trying to stay sane.
(I hate you, I think, I really do.)
You were all stubble and long legs and hands like the moon, and my bruises fit your finger prints like a glove.
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everyone's waiting for something big
unless they are that something
unless they are that something
© 2011 - 2024 wish-sticks
Comments16
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Wonderful imagery. I was completely engrossed from the first few lines on. The story is very clear but still mysteriously vague enough to keep the reader wondering. I love this.