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Literature Text
I am trying
to understand,
to breathe,
but I am taking on water
and every thought
is drowning.
The dull ache
pumping
inside my chest
is dependable,
a ticking pendulum -
consistent
and ever present.
Memory
is beautifully tragic,
everything
reminds me
not of where I am,
but
where I long
to be.
Some days
I wish for amnesia,
for the calm
that comes
with that vacancy
that
absence of feeling...
And yet
I still treasure moments
so much
a part of me
that I
would not be myself
without them,
without you.
There is a sense
that love
may ebb as the ocean
and I must wait
and see
if the tide shall
carry me
or bury me
beneath the sea.
to understand,
to breathe,
but I am taking on water
and every thought
is drowning.
The dull ache
pumping
inside my chest
is dependable,
a ticking pendulum -
consistent
and ever present.
Memory
is beautifully tragic,
everything
reminds me
not of where I am,
but
where I long
to be.
Some days
I wish for amnesia,
for the calm
that comes
with that vacancy
that
absence of feeling...
And yet
I still treasure moments
so much
a part of me
that I
would not be myself
without them,
without you.
There is a sense
that love
may ebb as the ocean
and I must wait
and see
if the tide shall
carry me
or bury me
beneath the sea.
Literature
Angstxiety
I am work weak on Wednesday
in a heap of hangover and hesitation
with fingers on a phone haptically
actively anticipating feedback—
I need that why do I need that.
My angst and anxiety
is constant and courses
and throbs with a pulse
that demands concern
of a baby boomer crooning poetic
in the distance to call me antisocial, or you know,
you could just call me.
If being this busy in an age
of constant communication
feels like having slept
but not feeling rested,
I'd rather cancel my plans
like a responsible millennial
and go to bed.
Literature
the ghost
I don't know what I'm waiting for,
because I am a ghost and yet
I sit on my hands and wonder
where you've been -
I walk the forest in circles,
the methodical crunch
of leaves beneath my feet
and I remember
that you made me feel small,
and alone. here I am, facing
this brilliant hue that is me and myself
and I am the ghost but somehow
you are haunting me.
Literature
Absence
there is snow all around
and we have invited you in
but silence falls like night
and the winds carry no sound
I remember; it was by the river
when you carried me on your shoulders
I covered your eyes with my hands
and there was laughter
It was in the woods, I remember
you taught me to ski
it was getting dark already
and there was still a long way to go
and yet there was no rush
and we talked about the stars
I remember; It was by the sea
already after everything changed
on a cold day still full of joy
when we were all brought together;
there were few words, even then
but we could still see the shine
and the pride in your eyes
as I took h
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Comments7
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Gorgeous! Beautiful! Amazing! I felt this from the very first line, great writing.