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Literature Text
I was purposefully carved
With some sharp
And some rounded edges
To fit together
And form a pretty picture.
But I'm dysfunctional.
I'm missing a piece.
So the picture can not be whole.
But you still put me together,
And take me apart,
And put me back in the box.
Why don't you go
And buy a new puzzle?
One with clean-cut edges
And all of it's pieces?
I don't buy puzzles,
Because they only show one stupid,
Unrealistic thing:
A pretty picture.
You never see the whole world;
One side is always shadowed.
So you only see
The lighted side -
The beautiful, pretty picture.
Puzzles are the same!
They focus on the light.
"Do the edges first!
They're most important."
Your father lies through his tobacco teeth.
With some sharp
And some rounded edges
To fit together
And form a pretty picture.
But I'm dysfunctional.
I'm missing a piece.
So the picture can not be whole.
But you still put me together,
And take me apart,
And put me back in the box.
Why don't you go
And buy a new puzzle?
One with clean-cut edges
And all of it's pieces?
I don't buy puzzles,
Because they only show one stupid,
Unrealistic thing:
A pretty picture.
You never see the whole world;
One side is always shadowed.
So you only see
The lighted side -
The beautiful, pretty picture.
Puzzles are the same!
They focus on the light.
"Do the edges first!
They're most important."
Your father lies through his tobacco teeth.
Literature
Heliolatry
Yesterday i attempted to find the means to express my feelings to you,
to describe the way it feels when your hair curls round your head
like thorns thatching itself upon sleeping beauty's castle,
how when your eyes lock onto mine i wish i could throw the key away.
And your voice is mellifluous,
like birds chirping at sunrise, my day hasn't started until i've heard your call,
and you're the sun;
the world tipping and singing to your every rise and fall-
But despite the million sentiments and more i send to you,
none define the faultless paradigm you are
or my nonsensical rapture towards your spirit,
but there's no need for any explanation
Literature
Cherished
She persuades him to lie down and be still for her
Naked in body only,
her eyes peer past the whole to the pieces.
She squeezes his breasts
Sweet, ripe little things
How they ache for her.
Curious hands become gentle fingers
Sliding up his throat
knuckles rasping against stubble
Skating across his forehead smoothing furrows.
Press gently on the delicate skin at the edges of his eyes
Follow down between the eyebrows
The straight line of his nose
Stroking soft lips that part in hungry expectancy.
She stretches his arms above his head, palms up.
Traces with spider legs down his shivering skin
Tickles the hair of his armpits
Nuzzling her
Literature
Sonnet 5
The ordered seasons mock the human heart,
where golden days are marred by winter's frost
and cold despair, unwilling to depart,
must suffer summer's warmth and wear the cost
of feigned enjoyment's cast: a brittle smile.
The pain of tempests past: those certain waves
that pound a wounded heart, that little isle
alone against the sea. The hurt enslaves,
its path a circle, always leading back,
each winter sharper, deeper. No remorse
can heal the dead or shape the past, no track
can breach time's walls, no penance change its course.
The wasteland fears a spring of piercing pains
so, shattered many times, the mask remains.
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The writing that insomnia brings... I'm really hoping this writer's block goes away soon. It's annoying.
I sort of like the concept here, but I didn't feel like I could do much with it.
I sort of like the concept here, but I didn't feel like I could do much with it.
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I like the metaphors!