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Literature Text
The stars don't align quite right in my head
As I ponder over the things that she said
That night underneath the blanket sky
When we cut holes where the stars should be
But still wondered why
Why they didn't shine like they used to
And my sighs turn to sobs between labored breaths
Each inspiration more painful than the last
When you could play these ribs like a xylophone
I wonder if it's even worth coming home
'Cause the sky's much darker, more foreboding than before
And for starters, I can barely lift off the floor
My hearts hiding in a dreary corner of this room
My souls trapped in this cage of bones and sinew
And my mind just seems to think it too soon
To attempt another rendezvous between the two
I'd like to know when this all might end
But questions don't always have answers, my friend
So I guess I'll just have to see it through
See it through like I always do,
I'll see it through.. like I always do
As I ponder over the things that she said
That night underneath the blanket sky
When we cut holes where the stars should be
But still wondered why
Why they didn't shine like they used to
And my sighs turn to sobs between labored breaths
Each inspiration more painful than the last
When you could play these ribs like a xylophone
I wonder if it's even worth coming home
'Cause the sky's much darker, more foreboding than before
And for starters, I can barely lift off the floor
My hearts hiding in a dreary corner of this room
My souls trapped in this cage of bones and sinew
And my mind just seems to think it too soon
To attempt another rendezvous between the two
I'd like to know when this all might end
But questions don't always have answers, my friend
So I guess I'll just have to see it through
See it through like I always do,
I'll see it through.. like I always do
Literature
Need
I don't need a shoulder to cry on
I have two of my own
I don't need an ear to listen
I have two of my own
I don't even need a hug
I have two arms of my own
But what I do need
Is a second heart to sing with mine
Literature
stomached
you blush and bruise
with sidewalks, stones,
the quiet doorways in your thighs
and the weight of your purple
tongue against mine
(a carnival of teeth)
if you swallowed the moon
with your agate jaws,
you could not be more nacreous
or divine
Literature
contrite.
she said
'i want to wake up
before i go to sleep,'
and she was wringing
those hands-
wringing those hands-
like you'd wring a turkey's neck.
so those grotesque
trees in the courtyard
are chasing her far away
where she can't reach
her heart;
those black branches
have build a bird's nest
around it, and the
brambles have started to grow.
she falls asleep
before her head hits
the pillow
and they bow their heads
and pray;
singing about doves
and gods and
teacups.
'i just want to wake up
before i go to sleep,'
she whispers,
her eyes like saucers
in her face-
and you should have held her then
you think,
but you didn't
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After a long day at the hospital (my fifth day), I wrote this to help myself calm down from almost having an anxiety attack from nausea, nervousness, and depression from dehydration and malnutrition. It's a rather heavy piece.
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