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Literature Text
and now, I’m defined by the
confines of my body, the faults
I carry like misdemeanors against
the ones who translate me in
lines and curves and scars that read
look, but don’t touch. now, I’m
busy catching up in revolutions
around the sun and laps within
the indignity of my own mind;
swallowing travesties and memories alike—
the sun in your voice, brightening
me inside as I wake up and breathe
like an eclipsing star, my bones clanking
together like wind-chimes, my legs
giving out like ghost people
who’ve given up. this is beautiful, this
stripping of layers upon layers
of reality and pretending
I’m not ashamed to stand naked and
quivering before those who judge me
in impersonal numbers and figures
as though I were irrelevant, that I’m not
holding my breath in hopes I will
float away like a balloon, beyond
human comprehension, light and fading
like the handwritten notes and promises
scrawled across every inch of me,
just so I could be forgotten
when the next victim wages a war
against herself. I wonder, now,
if no one can carry all this weight,
how do I keep from drowning?
confines of my body, the faults
I carry like misdemeanors against
the ones who translate me in
lines and curves and scars that read
look, but don’t touch. now, I’m
busy catching up in revolutions
around the sun and laps within
the indignity of my own mind;
swallowing travesties and memories alike—
the sun in your voice, brightening
me inside as I wake up and breathe
like an eclipsing star, my bones clanking
together like wind-chimes, my legs
giving out like ghost people
who’ve given up. this is beautiful, this
stripping of layers upon layers
of reality and pretending
I’m not ashamed to stand naked and
quivering before those who judge me
in impersonal numbers and figures
as though I were irrelevant, that I’m not
holding my breath in hopes I will
float away like a balloon, beyond
human comprehension, light and fading
like the handwritten notes and promises
scrawled across every inch of me,
just so I could be forgotten
when the next victim wages a war
against herself. I wonder, now,
if no one can carry all this weight,
how do I keep from drowning?
Literature
God's lungs
i learned how to board an airplane when i was eight years old.
Spongebob-hologram backpack and fitted pink baseball cap,
i was on my way to Disney World when they taught me that
your ears pop because the air is less dense way up there.
i broke into the cockpit and asked the pilot
“how does God breathe?”
and he let me sit on his lap for a whole two hours, told me
“look for his lungs wedged between the clouds.”
i can’t say i found them but ever since then,
i’ve spent mild Spring days and airplane rides
searching for an existence i know isn’t.
i jumped out of the last airplane i was on.
they
Literature
Asphodel
A beckoning:
watercolour sky shrinking,
too late, teeth fall; pearls
from a broken string.
Blink and the moon ignites—
but the sheets are still
envelope-stiff.
Literature
In grief, you blossomed.
When a wind tousled the hair
spilling from your hat,
though the sun was hot
and radiant in your eyelashes,
gleaming on your copper cheekbones,
shading the angles of your neck
with sharp virtue,
we walked two miles
to the bus stop.
"Do you ever think about how people like Eric
can turn out okay? But I don't really know what's different
between someone like that and someone who
sees shit and repeats every stupid fucking mistake,
because I don't think it has anything to do with strength
or willpower or opportunity or fate or God or whoever's been peddling
the newest life-affirming snake oil."
"What do you think it is?"
"I don't know."
"Y
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This actually made me tear up a bit, it's so beautiful!