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Literature Text
it was past midnight
and i was drunk again.
i told myself,
"tonight i will write."
so here i am, the morning after,
looking at pages and pages of
shit.
i wallow
in self-pity,
pouring myself another drink.
i swallow,
i swallow,
i swallow,
and sink.
in the end
i'm still here,
still empty.
i don't like looking back
and realizing that
i was just
another rebellious kid
hiding cigarettes
under her pillow –
realizing all too late that
you were beautiful,
fucking,
sobbing,
and i gave you away –
realizing that, deep down,
even the happiest people are a little sad –
realizing that we're always
too much
or too little of
something.
so now
here it is:
irony at its worst.
***
i feel dead,
but don't bury me yet –
i still have things to do.
Literature
things i know
everybody is sad
and scared
and it is ok to take comfort in this.
Literature
Remarks
i. I like the way you call me
and always hang up on the second ring
because you know I get the shakes and the shivers
and sometimes, but not always, my knees fall off
and I have to crouch down to find them.
ii. I keep thinking about you.
You
and your ten-thousand tans
and your lack-luster smile
gaping open with colloquialisms.
You and the way you say
"you're pretty and thin"
as if one more label will be the gunshot
and I'll finally escape that dream
in which I'm running, but my feet are melting
through the sidewalk and my arms are
casting impossible shadows.
iii. It reminds me of how inarticulate words are sometimes;
how t
Literature
.
i avoid the eyes of people when i'm nervous
stare at spaces in between their eyelids
and let the conversation fade
or dissolve.
i don't know where to let my eyes rest
when you appear
in my head
around my bones
there's nowhere to look
except through you
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Comments10
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This... this is the best poem I have ever read in my life... it... it's amazing... *awestuck*