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Literature Text
I miss you amid the noise
And in the silence.
I cannot sleep the nights
My head is on my pillow
But I am restless
And scared
I am very scared of falling asleep
As if death is all that awaits me in my dreams
As if unconsciousness will devour every last piece of me
And I would never have been.
And
I cannot survive the days
Hours pass
Like seconds
Wasted
And lonely
My body is exhausted
My brain is broken.
~
You are there
In everything I do
And do not do.
You are there
In every sigh
And every spoken word
And every face I see.
I do not speak lots of words
I do not see lots of faces.
Yet
You are there.
And in the silence.
I cannot sleep the nights
My head is on my pillow
But I am restless
And scared
I am very scared of falling asleep
As if death is all that awaits me in my dreams
As if unconsciousness will devour every last piece of me
And I would never have been.
And
I cannot survive the days
Hours pass
Like seconds
Wasted
And lonely
My body is exhausted
My brain is broken.
~
You are there
In everything I do
And do not do.
You are there
In every sigh
And every spoken word
And every face I see.
I do not speak lots of words
I do not see lots of faces.
Yet
You are there.
Literature
Does it bother you?
Does it bother you
That I am incomplete?
An empty shell
Left behind
Utterly weak.
Does it bother you
That I am broken?
Scattered pieces
Endlessly lost
Never to be spoken.
Does it bother you
That I am defeated?
Lost to the world
Forgotten by all
Forever to be repeated.
Does it bother you
That I am lost?
Forever wandering
In the shadows of life
A whisper never to exhaust.
Does it bother you
That I am enslaved?
By my memories
And darkened thoughts
A soul never to be saved.
Literature
Self-love
Emotions flowing without shape, a river of songs wild and strange, harmonious light on the surface, dark dissonance lurking beneath, reflecting the beauty found in you, you looked and seeing yourself, fell in love like beautiful Narcissus. Transformed into a flower, I caress your delicate petals, before crushing you in my hands, only to see you reborn again, with your stem covered in thorns.
Literature
The Halloween Train
the halloween train doesn’t stop here, but knives do and menace does menace does whatever the night might disguise as a form of charity; its giving, an act of giving back to the ground and sky the moon might shine these ideas as bright to some, its clarity dilutes this liquid atmosphere; here, fear in its truest form is no monster it takes on the shape and weight of familiar indentations in the seat beside you yet, this halloween train never stopped to pick you up and will not stop to let you off touch the empty seat beside you and commit to memory, how life looks streaking by in fogged over windows, in droplets collecting and trailing like comets touch the empty seat beside you and adjust your belongings; pretend you’re simply preparing to disembark at the next stop, now lose yourself in the window in the slow song of click clack and its side-to-side sway; look around for a cord, a handle to pull look anywhere but down into the empty seat beneath you
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Comments4
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There's this wonderful sense of the unknown in this poem. That's good!