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Literature Text
the rain, just slides off you,
doesn't it dear?
your teeth, pearly white, but stuck with roofing tar,
frozen now, but melts and smells in summer,
you're the saving grace to my shipwreck,
prized situation,
you do not sin, but you don't sing either,
no grace notes, no sonata,
but it is all so I can sleep soundly,
savoir, shake my hand,
feel my fingertips tremble in yours,
I'm a wreck, crumpled in spine,
a collapsed tent,
stress,
nosedive,
smash,
searching,
safety?
heavily, in your arms, I slumber,
warm me, hold me,
need,
doesn't it dear?
your teeth, pearly white, but stuck with roofing tar,
frozen now, but melts and smells in summer,
you're the saving grace to my shipwreck,
prized situation,
you do not sin, but you don't sing either,
no grace notes, no sonata,
but it is all so I can sleep soundly,
savoir, shake my hand,
feel my fingertips tremble in yours,
I'm a wreck, crumpled in spine,
a collapsed tent,
stress,
nosedive,
smash,
searching,
safety?
heavily, in your arms, I slumber,
warm me, hold me,
need,
Literature
Nocte
Hiding from the beast,
From tree to tree,
Running in the dark,
I tell myself such things,
Slow- so it won't find you,
Breath.
These fires have scorched far and wide,
Leaving the scent of my former cinders to linger in my head,
Like some bad bender,
Warped memories encircling grey,
The ground is made of shattered glass,
Broken dreams.
No lilies remain,
To any kingdom I run,
In mirrors of liquid glass,
Surrealist battles are won,
And like fear,
The spider crawled from my mouth.
They are sedating everything,
Brush pixilated,
Focus changing,
Leaving me to run in the dark,
Caught in the eye of the storm,
Hiding in the calm.
Literature
Always
Alone upon the hill,
you stand.
Winters hand,
grips your limbs,
cold wind ripping,
at your core.
Just a shadow of yourself,
stands before the world.
But fear not,
soon winters hold,
will be burnt sunder.
Once more the light,
will fill your core.
Once more you shall bloom,
once more the beauty,
in you shall shine.
and know this,
alone you shall never stand,
for no matter were,
no matter what.
Be it light,
be it dark.
You shall always,
have a freind,
in me
Literature
In the Syllable
...then there is a way in diswaiting.
Dust some yellow sand covers,
here uncover bare bedding.
...suffusing red planes, blushed dunes,
under incidentally quilted blanket
wet as arid curves, as sounds.
...in a persistent pavement,
in a solemn unsuited promise,
some written words erase
some letters drip and soak
unto a perfuse miracle,
a dislocated split,
a letting go of...
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