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Literature Text
crashed my car driving drunk for the iiird time this week
held your faded photograph in one hand and fell asleep at the wheel
pretended It was vintage, that the warm sepia
coating your smile and the frame wasn’t
spilled coffee and cigarette ash.
reality isn’t always as bright
as my camera flash on your face.
put the high in highway at ii hundred miles per millisecond
eyes wide and red and hollow and hopeful
that a cop would come running after me.
ive been needing someone
to hold me down and tell me
“you’ve been a very bad boy”
like you used to.
Swallowed i too many pills this time
(i didn’t lie when i said i’d only take
as many as i needed to feel better).
you made me see stars
or maybe that was just the medicine?
how strange i think who could ever like someone
so discernibly sour?
held your faded photograph in one hand and fell asleep at the wheel
pretended It was vintage, that the warm sepia
coating your smile and the frame wasn’t
spilled coffee and cigarette ash.
reality isn’t always as bright
as my camera flash on your face.
put the high in highway at ii hundred miles per millisecond
eyes wide and red and hollow and hopeful
that a cop would come running after me.
ive been needing someone
to hold me down and tell me
“you’ve been a very bad boy”
like you used to.
Swallowed i too many pills this time
(i didn’t lie when i said i’d only take
as many as i needed to feel better).
you made me see stars
or maybe that was just the medicine?
how strange i think who could ever like someone
so discernibly sour?
Literature
All the Things You Never Knew
It was your favorite thing to say. “We know everything about each other. Not just the good things, but even the bad ones. We have no secrets.” And the way your eyes lit up when you said it, how your arm would curl around my shoulders and squeeze me against you… I couldn’t say anything. I promised myself that I would when we were alone, but the moment always seemed wrong and eventually the fact that I still had secrets became a secret itself.
It turns out I wasn’t the only one.
I never told you about the crying or the cutting or the nights I spent awake staring at the bottle of pills. I was terrified it would b
Literature
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
When I was little, it use to amaze me how colors were made. In art class I would sit and mix paint because blue and red didn't stay the same when they fell in love. Every single color found its match and danced beautifully as I swirled them together. Black and white were my favorites. I'd pour the creamy paint into a bowl and watch as black and white swirls, turned into grey swirls and owned the container holding it captive. Grey was amazing to me. Because black and white are nothing alike, and grey is in the middle. Black is dark and scary and demanding. And white is graceful, and trusting, and clean. Grey is nothing. Grey is bland. And safe
Literature
salt
i of you,
such a beautiful mess, intertwined and overrun.
your arms, copper lips, citrus,
a lovin' with a twist.
my summer away at space pirate camp,
i took to howling with you the first thunder of june;
flesh, storms,
the hunt for human brains,
Maybe Zombies Just Want To Hug?
- 6 lies to tell yourself if shipwrecked.
i can't explain the feelings i get.
wakewalking,
blue dream before i sleep:
the soul cupping rice (glass figurines, lamp light eyes).
my fear is milk two sugars.
drink drink drink
beneath it all,
floral growth, silver spoons,
featherweight
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ab origine ad finem, acta est fabula. illud nihil intelligitur
had a rough week.
had a rough week.
© 2013 - 2024 thepoetboy
Comments86
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This is amazing. Lovely work. I'm a bit late but congrats on the Daily Deviation. You definitely deserved it love bug.