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Literature Text
Holding hands,
throwing roses over a pearlescent casket
bathed in baby pink,
who knew death could be so feminine,
but funeral hymns plague the fragile air
while the graveyard is soaking up mournful stares,
maybe a few glances of relief are exchanged like drug money,
I look around and realize how everyone looks so alive
when we are surrounded by fatality,
translucent tears spill over flushed faces,
sunken eyes mirror hollow smiles
as the reapers cling to our backs like sloths
and everything feels slow,
everything falls stagnant,
then we drink from the goblet of faith and hope
and we get drunk off the elixir of life,
the fog clears
and our skin burns gold as the sun rises against our withered hides,
we can still feel the warmth which means we must still be alive,
so we don't move on but we do move forward
with our ancestors ghosts living within our hearts,
whispering in our ears,
and guiding us into the light.
throwing roses over a pearlescent casket
bathed in baby pink,
who knew death could be so feminine,
but funeral hymns plague the fragile air
while the graveyard is soaking up mournful stares,
maybe a few glances of relief are exchanged like drug money,
I look around and realize how everyone looks so alive
when we are surrounded by fatality,
translucent tears spill over flushed faces,
sunken eyes mirror hollow smiles
as the reapers cling to our backs like sloths
and everything feels slow,
everything falls stagnant,
then we drink from the goblet of faith and hope
and we get drunk off the elixir of life,
the fog clears
and our skin burns gold as the sun rises against our withered hides,
we can still feel the warmth which means we must still be alive,
so we don't move on but we do move forward
with our ancestors ghosts living within our hearts,
whispering in our ears,
and guiding us into the light.
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
The Pride in Aging
Hey, you!
Quit pouring rust remover
over an old heart,
don't you know that red oxide
is the part of my soul
that just barely keeps the blood vessels from leaking
and corrosion the thing that shaped my inner landscape?
I may be old
my joints squeaking
my mind full of memories you can't see
and my skin allergic to digitalization –
But you
with your still squeaky clean heart
those baby eyes unblinded by recognition
and those ears that hardly listen
do you even know how to breath yet?
Literature
Alone
It rained today, and snowed. The snow isn't really important to me though, I'm not sure why. The rain is very special to me. I've written about it before, and I felt like now was the time again.
~~~~~~
I don't know about everyone else, but I am always alone. I have wonderful beautiful people who surround me, and love me. I have a home, I have food, a good family. I am very smart. And I am always alone. Maybe it's just a part of my nature. Every once in a while someone comes along who sparks. Just for a few short weeks I am not alone. This is a kindred soul, who understands what I'm thinking and feeling. Then they fade. Something
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my grandmother's funeral is this coming thursday so i wrote
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Comments5
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"then we drink from the goblet of faith and hope
and we get drunk off the elixir of life,"
&
"but funeral hymns plague the fragile air"
such beauty within this whole piece!
and we get drunk off the elixir of life,"
&
"but funeral hymns plague the fragile air"
such beauty within this whole piece!