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Literature Text
Close the door when you leave
Grasp the bolt and draw it tight
Lock me here to wildly grieve,
And scream in humid summer night.
Stop the light with wooden screen
Shutters thin before my rage,
Darkly shall I quake unseen
And scrawl upon this dirty page.
Grasp the bolt and draw it tight
Lock me here to wildly grieve,
And scream in humid summer night.
Stop the light with wooden screen
Shutters thin before my rage,
Darkly shall I quake unseen
And scrawl upon this dirty page.
Literature
Before I Can Become a Writer
Develop insomnia. Develop
problems with substance abuse,
nothing serious, but enough
that I can say “write drunk,
edit sober” and mean it.
Drink tea. Write about drinking
tea. Take up smoking, ignore
the thoughts about it being
a slower suicide. Write about
suicide. Don’t mean it.
Write about sunsets and
ink veins. Mean it.
Fall in love with someone
who will never love me back.
Lament. Write a million
crappy poems and two good
ones. Never show him.
Move on. Write a few more
bad poems. Fall in love with
someone perfect. Screw it up.
Fall in love with someone awful.
Call him perfect. Screw it up.
Cry. Cry for the inevitab
Literature
Play The Lover
You thought it was weird
that I found you perfect
for everything that made
you contrary to exactly that.
Your flaws are what made
you perfect, because even
in the cracks and scrapes
there was still beauty under
all of that worn armor.
And no matter how many
times you try to convince
me otherwise, you'll still
be my broken goddess.
Literature
shuteye
got my mama
a golden needle,
but
she hid it
in the hay -
told me
the sweet things in life
are worth looking for
over
and over
again
'til your eyes just
can't see
anymore.
Suggested Collections
yawn
© 2009 - 2024 Penessence
Comments29
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Sorrow, I like it.