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Literature Text
Give me something real, he says. Give me something with meaning. I'd give every little word that can't
contain a smidgen of the thing itself rattling around my tired, jittery brain, but I've been doing lines of
madness and what I see the world cannot hold. Oh, everything I say is real, I answer, with the smile
that comes at all the wrong times, but never when invited. And I mean every single word.
losing my sex drive
[like an addiction i cannot keep]
and winning out on integrity,
and my inner desires
most humble in nature.
My hands chase firefly outlines trying to sculpt something from nothing. Syllables become words become
sentences become paragraphs become pages and pages and pages of misplaced electrochemical
connections clashing with malformed biochemical reactions. The signals in my chest swapping
oxygenated for deoxygenated speed up in the fear that the message won't get through and the signals
in my chest measuring inspiration with expiration stop altogether removing the ability to speak.
to see the mad king collapse,
and bask in the victory
that noble hearts have won.
across the land
the world gets a little brighter
love and support structure win over
all the chaos and disorder.
and I get to keep for me
a piece of peace.
Omne ignotum pro magnifico.1 Barefoot in the grass I stand in the dark the cold the mist and extend
and perceive and become. The energy of the world slides down my throat and magic lives behind my
eyes because I am not I am not I am not of this(your)their world. I am a particulari ad
universale2. I am the conduit of pastpresentfuture with the wings of beginnings and endings and
everything in between beating beneath my skin. I am Cassandra3 swimming against the stream of fate
and predestination, or maybe I'll become bradán feasa4 instead and I will say Take this, all of you, and
eat it: this is my body which will be given up for you5, and then you will know all the mysteries collecting
in my veins.
thirsts that can never be quenched finally rid,
we wrap ourselves in our own little world of darkness.
[the type of darkness we love so much
where angels fly
and demons do not always connotate evil.]
where we can feel our brethren around us:
their bleeding hearts, their happiness,
and hear the stories an old oak tells,
for we are kindred spirits.
And in the dark and the cold and the mist, reality strips away and leaves me in the purity of being. I see
the lines connecting every tree and every root and every plant spider webs and tapestries and I stand
at the epicentre, the hub connecting to the spokes and here, away from them and there and that, in the
quiet of the universe I hold the rabbit of your heart in hands moulded from earth and time and things they
only speak of in laughter or in fear, and here in the quiet of the universe I will hold it gently and speak
softly of all the truths we both once knew and offer shelter from the harshness of this place.
we are all made of the same stuff
and we have opened up to communicate
the universal language.
[that we are all equipped to understand
yet somehow
in the marrow of the human world
have forgotten.]
The uninvited smile climbs in place once more to shield the truth in frivolous disguise. To let you know
the analysation and observation is the act of a curious child unearthing buried treasure, for I am Peter
Pan forever duelling pirates and tumbling through air, and you are the Wendy-girl waiting with an
arsenal of thimble-kisses for every scrap my danger-immune impulses lead me to. One day Wendy-girl
will realise Never Land will always live wherever Peter is (because he is Never Land), and that she is
the one who must ask him to stay because he must be invited and coaxed. Like a cat. But even a cat
who can't tell the difference between thimbles and kisses understands something all her thinking still
can't unravel.
amongst the greed and lust and envy
and all the things that made humans look despicable
now preside in dwell in nothing
as the meek inherit the earth
Your voice always gets quiet when your thoughts get loud, and I would pick away every lock and chain
wrapped around that shining, glittering box if you would only give permission to my anxious, questing
fingers.
Tell me something make-believe.
Literature
Stories
Stories
Green pills, yellow pills, white pills. I wonder if they color code the pills to match the malady, green to soothe, yellow to wake, white to purify evil thoughts, black like ravens who peck and caw, Jezebel's bones, sodden red tulips, dogs lapping, tongues so black, black holes that like eating novas and girls like me that just happen to see the testifying of bricks. "Here someone was murdered", fickle neurons, scandalized hieroglyphs of blood, constellations of wolves such bloody tongued dogs.
"Open," the nurse says checking to see if I have swallowed her pills. I always do hoping such sacred behavior will loosen me of this place.
Literature
Amnesia
White.
The room is white.
White as snow. No. It is not that white. It is not a beautiful impurity. It does not glow with cold strength. It does not hold fragility in its arms. It is clean. It is perfect. It is sterile.
It is sterile.
She sits up slowly, and her arm automatically moves to assist her. It lifts for a moment, and then she allows it to fall back with a dull thud. Her other arm is numb with imagined pain, and she looks over curiously.
Intravenous Stand.
IV.
With a quick pull, she tears the needle out. It slides free with a feeling that makes her stomach churn. The needle is slightly bloody, and the liquid still drips with a
Literature
Choice is change, chance is bullshit.
Summer revealed the bitterness in her sugar-coated reality, the gold in her eroded to silver and her long-term dreams into freshly-murdered stupidities. The light adorning her name started to fade into a pitch black darkness she saw no possible escape from. He felt warm(er than she did) and, ignoring the hurt he had left her with, she begged for him to accept an unworthy forgiveness as her delusional mind felt a rain that was not there and her broken voice whispered "please, we’ll make it, we’re getting wet."
Fall was all about falling; deeper in love, deeper in despair, deeper into any depth her heart would bare grasp. His mista
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Something like... A dialogue between thought processes. Maybe. What do you see?
With the ever lovely and enlightening Mr Jinks.
Prosey bits are me, not-prosey bits are him.
Footnotes
(yes, I have footnotes)
1 'Everything unknown appears magnificent.'
<sup2</sup> 'from the particular to the universal'
3Apollo granted Cassandra the gift of prophecy. However, when she did not return his love, Apollo placed a curse on her so that no one would believe her predictions.
4The Salmon of Knowledge, prominently figured in The Boyhood Deeds of Fionn. A salmon ate nine hazelnuts that fell into the Well of Wisdom from nine hazelnut trees that surrounded the well, and gained all the knowledge in the world. The first person to eat its flesh would in turn gain that knowledge.
5Words of Consecration (Eucharist); Luke 22:19
With the ever lovely and enlightening Mr Jinks.
Prosey bits are me, not-prosey bits are him.
Footnotes
(yes, I have footnotes)
1 'Everything unknown appears magnificent.'
<sup2</sup> 'from the particular to the universal'
3Apollo granted Cassandra the gift of prophecy. However, when she did not return his love, Apollo placed a curse on her so that no one would believe her predictions.
4The Salmon of Knowledge, prominently figured in The Boyhood Deeds of Fionn. A salmon ate nine hazelnuts that fell into the Well of Wisdom from nine hazelnut trees that surrounded the well, and gained all the knowledge in the world. The first person to eat its flesh would in turn gain that knowledge.
5Words of Consecration (Eucharist); Luke 22:19
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Comments8
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"The uninvited smile climbs in place once more to shield the truth in frivolous disguise."
nice line. also good formatting.
lines like " become pages and pages and pages of misplaced electrochemical connections clashing with malformed biochemical reactions. The signals in my chest swapping oxygenated for deoxygenated speed"
and internal rhymes like inspiration expiration, all make it awesome. plus fav
nice line. also good formatting.
lines like " become pages and pages and pages of misplaced electrochemical connections clashing with malformed biochemical reactions. The signals in my chest swapping oxygenated for deoxygenated speed"
and internal rhymes like inspiration expiration, all make it awesome. plus fav