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Literature Text
it's funny that my mother always said
don’t slouch, your spine will stick
because i am so twisted by the
burden of these words
that i may never stand
again.
oh, atlas was a lucky fellow…
to only hold the weight of worlds
would be a godsend,
but here in tartarus
palms cupped with sacrificial fire
recede as quickly as the waters.
and there was ichor
in my veins, i swear,
but the venom in this writhing
mass of snakes and syllables
upon my back has curdled it
beyond compare.
they say to cast this hindrance off,
and i could try.
but the mountaintop still shudders with my name
and i have earned too many steps
to crumble to the bottom.
don’t slouch, your spine will stick
because i am so twisted by the
burden of these words
that i may never stand
again.
oh, atlas was a lucky fellow…
to only hold the weight of worlds
would be a godsend,
but here in tartarus
palms cupped with sacrificial fire
recede as quickly as the waters.
and there was ichor
in my veins, i swear,
but the venom in this writhing
mass of snakes and syllables
upon my back has curdled it
beyond compare.
they say to cast this hindrance off,
and i could try.
but the mountaintop still shudders with my name
and i have earned too many steps
to crumble to the bottom.
Literature
Unheard
Persephone cries,
The lilies in her hair dead,
Pleading with the Fates.
Literature
memoirs
neon trees / weed / bad coffee:
i threw that suicide VHS tape in the trash, because
i couldn't stuff it down my throat. either way,
i think it's a pretty valuable lesson.
the sunrise looks so pixelated from here. i guess
god didn't make the sky in 1080p after all
but that's what i've got left
or i could spend my life in the empty room
comparing the gaps left by people who have died
and people who have walked away.
-
god texts me saying sorry about the sky. i'm just so tired.
i tell her, it's okay. me too. what are next week's lottery numbers?
to collect every pixel for new VIP heaven
would take every defibrillated heart and then som
Literature
Icarus
bottled up at the bottom of
the ocean
is the wing-beaten
downtrodden boy
looking for a place to sleep,
far from the desolate
quiet of sky
and summer sun.
but he grew restless, this boy
lungs filled with saltwater
& quaking bones carved with feathers
and seaweed.
detached of the pressure
between his fingers
and the slow but thunderous anger
of water.
waves roaring against the sky's belly,
his body rising to the storm
roiling and tumbling
until at last
the current tosses him upright,
palms against the heaven
and his back against
white sand.
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Hmmmm.... I guess today was a mythology day.
So I wrote this for the Let It Go Contest, and I'm not quite sure if it satisfies the prompt, but in any case I got inspiration.
I'm not sure I'm satisfied with the ending and the way the beginning and end flow, so feedback would definitely be appreciated.
So I wrote this for the Let It Go Contest, and I'm not quite sure if it satisfies the prompt, but in any case I got inspiration.
I'm not sure I'm satisfied with the ending and the way the beginning and end flow, so feedback would definitely be appreciated.
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Comments14
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this is pretty awesome.