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Literature Text
I cannot sleep and I cannot wake,
there is this new weighted feeling I get most afternoons
where I'm sinking below sea level,
tracing geometric shapes onto my geologic limbs,
and no wonder love feels so rocky
when mountains are carved into our lips,
gravel our hips,
and we use our rockwall skin to climb each other,
but I need your page turning palms pressed against my winter worn waist,
and I need your sun to be my moon,
because we are ultraviolet lights in an unbound galaxy,
so let me collapse into your event horizon,
let me sway along the depths of your Caribbean,
then let me breathe beneath your carousel stained skin,
for I need you
always and forever
and then even more than that.
there is this new weighted feeling I get most afternoons
where I'm sinking below sea level,
tracing geometric shapes onto my geologic limbs,
and no wonder love feels so rocky
when mountains are carved into our lips,
gravel our hips,
and we use our rockwall skin to climb each other,
but I need your page turning palms pressed against my winter worn waist,
and I need your sun to be my moon,
because we are ultraviolet lights in an unbound galaxy,
so let me collapse into your event horizon,
let me sway along the depths of your Caribbean,
then let me breathe beneath your carousel stained skin,
for I need you
always and forever
and then even more than that.
Literature
In the pretext of sleep
In the pretext of sleep, my mind wanders even though I am physically exhausted. I can feel the dull ache of my tiring body slowly cooling down and relaxing. Surely, my conscious realizes that it’s time to be resting my body. The second this thought of rest arrives, it is rudely interrupted by the overwhelming thoughts of the wandering mind. I can feel my thoughts ranging from the tiniest of incidents that happened throughout the day, to my deepest insecurities. The worst part about this entire charade is that its intensity gets more when I’m the most spent physically. I guess its just a part and parcel of being an introverted over
Literature
Sometimes
Sometimes, the smallest things in life become the most important to you, and sometimes it doesnt.
Literature
The Cycle, Pt. 1
A bright orbit starts the day,
Slowly opening my eyes from The Bed,
After a night of sleep and comfort.
Too much comfort.
Because I don't leave The Bed right away
(Like I know I should)
To start the day.
Time ticks but eventually I rise,
Accepting the loss of newfound comfort with
The Fan and The Blanket and The Pillow.
So I proceed to The Shower,
Different way of feeling cool than The Bed.
And yet here, I'm warmer and accept it.
Too much acceptance.
Because I don't leave The Shower right away,
(Like I know I should)
Already cleansed for the day.
Time ticks but eventually I step out,
Accepting the loss of newfound comfort with
The Warm and
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Comments9
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really nice descriptive work here and well-conveyed passion.
I'd suggest coral stained instead of carousel to fit with the previous line but also to keep that idea of staining many colors (if that's what you were going for) up to you.
I'd suggest coral stained instead of carousel to fit with the previous line but also to keep that idea of staining many colors (if that's what you were going for) up to you.