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Literature Text
tomorrow, i saw you, standing
(in the shade of the study-tree of high school)
your hair was diamond, and your eyes
(an ivory black)
wept for me in tears of gold
and flaky sawdust
as i tasted the saltiness of longing
upon your wasted cheeks
today, i hear your song in the city streets
the moan of the violin drumming
(into my mind my soul my heart)
and the scent of fresh bread rises
as you bake the kneaded warpedness of my being
and the birds wail for the tragedy
of our comic demise
(or the comedy of our tragic demise)
(sometimes i forget)
yesterday, i'll feel your skin against my back
and your arms around my hips as i will gaze
into the silent night (and i'll reach around and try find you)
(in the warm emptiness of the hollow beside me on my bed)
and i will think
(about the car your skin the crash my tree the hospital your violin the funeral our love)
(the sawdust lining the plain-black coffin)
and then
i closed my eyes
and weep
because you
will never leave me
(in the shade of the study-tree of high school)
your hair was diamond, and your eyes
(an ivory black)
wept for me in tears of gold
and flaky sawdust
as i tasted the saltiness of longing
upon your wasted cheeks
today, i hear your song in the city streets
the moan of the violin drumming
(into my mind my soul my heart)
and the scent of fresh bread rises
as you bake the kneaded warpedness of my being
and the birds wail for the tragedy
of our comic demise
(or the comedy of our tragic demise)
(sometimes i forget)
yesterday, i'll feel your skin against my back
and your arms around my hips as i will gaze
into the silent night (and i'll reach around and try find you)
(in the warm emptiness of the hollow beside me on my bed)
and i will think
(about the car your skin the crash my tree the hospital your violin the funeral our love)
(the sawdust lining the plain-black coffin)
and then
i closed my eyes
and weep
because you
will never leave me
Literature
Never-was
I have peeled my skin
away, because you always
told me that I was
beautiful on the inside.
Literature
Still Alive
I just need to know
that while ink
seeps beneath my skin,
there will be blood
to take it in.
Literature
...you ask me, and i say...
i.
you ask me how i feel
and i say,
"fine."
you don't hear it in my tone,
but what i really mean is,
"terrible."
i don't tell you
that my skin is sagging from my bones
and
my heart skips two beats at a time
and
my lungs are wracked with pain
because i'm holding back.
i don't tell you
that when i wake up in the mornings,
it feels as if my dreams are drowning me
and all i want to do
is fall asleep peacefully for once.
ii.
you ask me what i'm thinking
and i say,
"nothing."
you don't see it in my gaze,
but what i really mean is,
"everything that matters."
i don't tell you
that my mind is a tornado
spanning the distanc
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contest 'Haunted by the Past'
sorry, is this too strange? =/ it just kind of worked in my head...please tell me what you think!
contest 'Haunted by the Past'sorry, is this too strange? =/ it just kind of worked in my head...please tell me what you think!
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Comments10
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You have switched between tenses rather a lot in this piece. I find this makes the piece difficult to read. I'm also not sure about the brackets. I can't see what they add to the piece. I like the idea and you have said something rather effecting here. Good work