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Literature Text
That red dress flowing at her ankles like blood,
rippling against her river thin frame of fire,
she is burning, burning so bloody,
she sweats and she cries and she falls to the ground,
but her eyes dance in the flickering flames
and her heart skips when his voice catches on her pastry flake flesh,
his voice lingers there, rests, soul upon skin, sin upon sin,
her body cooked tender.
rippling against her river thin frame of fire,
she is burning, burning so bloody,
she sweats and she cries and she falls to the ground,
but her eyes dance in the flickering flames
and her heart skips when his voice catches on her pastry flake flesh,
his voice lingers there, rests, soul upon skin, sin upon sin,
her body cooked tender.
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
Waking on Risperidone and Lithium
It's only startling when I realize my limbs are no longer my own. There's no real fear, no panic, no racing heart and dry mouth and bulging eyes. It's mildly distasteful, a minor annoyance to know Legs can't hear my commands and Fingers scoff at orders. As soon as I'm aware, it's mostly forgotten, an annoying mosquito that you are certain was in the room with you, but has landed somewhere and is no longer buzzing.
Time flies past, making hours into minutes, or minutes into hours, I'm not certain which. I reach out to study the room I've found myself in, and remember that Hands are sleeping in another room. Mental fingers then search slowly
Literature
Eucalyptus.
i.
five bottles of light
rest on my window;
they are small,
coloured
ii.
there are stories and
stories
of sex, hidden in the
handbag;
black leather,
I could never tell
iii.
a list of ten, more
reasons to
love you;
a justification
iv.
more humid than rain;
my whole is saturated,
tired
v.
monday was lust;
tuesday boredom;
wednesday digust; and
today, I am
apathetic.
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I don't know where this came from. It just came to my mind and I wrote.
© 2012 - 2024 blackdahlia911
Comments6
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Always the most random of thoughts can flow into something so transfixing as this piece. You did an amazing job.