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Literature Text
"i'm not living a lie," she said,
"i'm just waiting to wake up."
her mouth tasted like a graveyard,
littered with corpses of young thoughts
and old dreams--
all the things she could have
would have should have might
have said, if her lips weren't so
dry and her breath not so shallow
"i'm not dying inside," she said,
"i'm just waiting to break down."
all these dead words and broken sentences
were buried between her teeth--
and her false grin became their headstone,
her quiet destruction their eulogy.
"i'm not living a lie," she said,
"i'm just waiting to wake up."
she didn't finish words
the words finished her
"i'm just waiting to wake up."
her mouth tasted like a graveyard,
littered with corpses of young thoughts
and old dreams--
all the things she could have
would have should have might
have said, if her lips weren't so
dry and her breath not so shallow
"i'm not dying inside," she said,
"i'm just waiting to break down."
all these dead words and broken sentences
were buried between her teeth--
and her false grin became their headstone,
her quiet destruction their eulogy.
"i'm not living a lie," she said,
"i'm just waiting to wake up."
she didn't finish words
the words finished her
Literature
Death
Gently brushing against him, I flinch. I feel him, closer than ever, his rotting breath on my neck and his enticing voice in my ear.
I cannot give in. Dragging myself to my feet, I trudge on. Each footstep is thunder and each ragged breath is hell. Every rumble of my stomach, deafening. The averted eyes of strangers pierce my soul. Their blank faces loom in and out of focus. Muffled voices ask about my wellbeing. I stumble and fall. No, stand, please legs work, please, oh god, please stand up, don't let me fall, he'll catch me, he'll take me, oh please, stand…
Gripping the wall, my head pounding, I begin to buckle – again
Literature
to my former self -
i.
in a dim and exhausted new york subway train - i
surrender my fingerprints over to dirty railings and
start over.
ii.
my body stretches like a mayan temple over his landscape.
my sun drags itself across his skies to his brutal moon
prowling the outskirts of our madness. he says
bend yourself to these sights, love.
recognize, but never accept.
i want your filthy and bruised hope
on my table. he was
saturating space, says - how much
do you love your world. eyes screaming
alive over and over again. you can do better
he says, but you want to do worse.
iii.
a giraffe crawls out of my dead skin and is silent,
but stares with fa
Literature
Never Give Love a Name
Never Give Love a Name
i.
the Chachapoyas did not call
themselves the Chachapoyas
this name an invention
by the Incas the history
of the Chachapoyas recorded
in ruins fragments
of bowls tombs
tucked in mountain cliffs
ii.
breath caught in the throat
erodes the lungs scratches
against the empty caves
left by the ribs the broken
bowl of a shoulder blade
twisted bridge of the neck
that can no longer be crossed
ridges of the spine
a chipped necklace
memories of a kiss embalmed tucked
in the folds of an ear
now there is only this
only this the body
Suggested Collections
a eulogy for all those words we never got around to saying
those can get caught up in you, block off things
that's why your chest starts to hurt
those can get caught up in you, block off things
that's why your chest starts to hurt
Comments1
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(This is Adam Hylton from school)
Chez, I thought it was awesome. Very truthful to, with a lot of emotion and pain tied to it.
Chez, I thought it was awesome. Very truthful to, with a lot of emotion and pain tied to it.