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Literature
Reddist
Before you, there were women
with full breasts,
breasts with perk tips and beneath them:
hips wide as my hand spread,
but never love.
Athenas before you,
my eyes only followed the apples;
and then, suddenly:
A wild brook unleashed
and I never knew I was a basin
meant to be filled.
A woman sewn
from the smile of Coyote,
from the same hands that bent time
and created life for a laugh-
Apples became
the sweetest fruit; be my reddist-
I will love you madder
than a hatter and brasher than a miner.
Wilder for a gypsy.
Literature
we're all liars
1.
you are a
poorly written cliché teen drama.
"mum, he got me pregnant."
"your daddy's gonna kill that boy."
no.
just kidding.
there is a jar of salty tears
from all the times
you lost control
but you bleed
that kind of
bullshit,
don't you? yeah,
and your lovers soak it up.
when you look at them
they die inside.
they lie their heads on your chest
and they are thinking,
"oh, how warm he is,"
and they are wondering
if they stare back deeply enough,
would you stay?
but in the end
you and people
don't mix,
much like oil and water.
in the end
you always leave.
gone, like the leaves the wind sweeps
off the streets.
but
Literature
Hyperaware
I know the thumping of blood in my fingers,
the twinge in my back,
the tension behind my calves far too well.
The bristle of cold is too much
but the silence without the fan is suffocating.
My blankets are too heavy,
settled over my torso like the rock in my chest
but I can’t sleep without the weight.
This awareness is a manifestation of my longing;
for your hands in my hair,
your warmth at my spine,
your shoes on my floor.
This is what I feel when I can’t feel you –
palpitations, vibrations,
fixations that drive me to insomnia.
Only the trains are any comfort,
plowing away into the night
screaming here I am; there I go
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Comments23
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Hah, I love the double meaning to that "perfect strangers."