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Literature Text
I find myself five months deep
in a wild wood. I make sacrifice with
my teeth, ripping skin, draining blood
leaving corpses upside down
on boughs
in a wild wood. I make sacrifice with
my teeth, ripping skin, draining blood
leaving corpses upside down
on boughs
as I come upon them. how have they
traveled this far without fighting?
it grows darker and I meaner.
March unfolds April unfolds May,
the light lingers longer but does not
penetrate, and I materialize a
twisted formation,
white as heartwood,
sticky and moaning.
traveled this far without fighting?
it grows darker and I meaner.
March unfolds April unfolds May,
the light lingers longer but does not
penetrate, and I materialize a
twisted formation,
white as heartwood,
sticky and moaning.
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Literature
plutonian
you know i would fill you up and over with love
an overflowing kitchen sink stacked with plates from
a breakfast two mornings ago i recall
the clink of a fork and an intake of breath and an
"i think im going to leave you"
slipping from your lips like a prayer,
i nodded,
and went back to my tea
what could i do to keep you, this backwards love we had
i exist as a passing point i am neither your point a or b
artemis will deny that she walks these woods barefoot
searching for love in dewy blades of grass but
i am painfully honest about the holes people have left
you were my orion for a week or so,
if i was a planet i would be pluto
for i
Literature
A Run-On Sentence About Staying Where You Are
In a halo of messy hair
and metal shavings everywhere
my thoughts return to you
and what I would do
if we were less constricted,
if we were less restricted,
by the paths we've chosen
that leave us almost frozen
in warm beds
with full heads,
busy days
set in our ways
and complacent
with energy spent
on getting by,
forgetting why
we are even here
and it becomes clear
that things just are
the way they are
and it doesn't matter that you make me nervous,
that the only time my thoughts find purchase
is when they return to you
and what I would do
if we were less constricted,
if we were less restricted.
Literature
scintilla
incensed candles flicker
with hot dripping wax melting
coalesced between my cavities and
having taken the shape of my teeth
i chant the song of the fallen ones
within my ribs and broken fists
„chivalry is the art of war” yet
i found it to be rather ominous
when they pulled my
filament bones out of my grave
and set me ablaze
in the vesper’s kindled ash to
bring solace for the fires quenched by
the wind
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Comments7
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eerie morbid dark,
the alliteration on light made me smile.
I like how you used it to further the darkness,
even with the description of heartwood,
which is usually darker than the sapwood.
All alluding to being lost in a Forest
How apt.
the alliteration on light made me smile.
I like how you used it to further the darkness,
even with the description of heartwood,
which is usually darker than the sapwood.
All alluding to being lost in a Forest
How apt.