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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
June 20, 2014
That longing by Fragments-of-a-Pawn flows so smoothly while retaining meaning is a true feat of creativity.
Featured by inknalcohol
Suggested by daybreaksmiles
Literature Text
i scuff at sidewalk bottle caps,
mouthing your name as i pass shriveled milkweed stalks and snuffed-out cigarettes.
once, the clock hands pointed north. they mock me now with each degree elapsed,
each angle pointing to a slew of compass-rose regrets.
mouthing your name as i pass shriveled milkweed stalks and snuffed-out cigarettes,
i hear the second hand’s advance tally my silences like rosary beads,
each angle pointing to a slew of compass-rose regrets.
if only i could pull your name from this unmerciful stampede!
i hear the second hand’s advance tally my silences like rosary beads.
every dull tock measures out those quinine conversations, sly unripened smiles, and yet i know
if only i could pull your name from this unmerciful stampede,
the cobwebs binding me to mute labyrinths of time might let me go.
every dull tock measures out those quinine conversations, sly unripened smiles, and yet i know
your redwood hands could be the ones to rescue me, and then
the cobwebs binding me to mute labyrinths of time might let me go…
oh, how can i speak when these dark flocks of raven-fears still cluster in my mind like minutemen?
your redwood hands could be the ones to rescue me, and then –
once, the clock hands pointed north. they mock me now with each degree elapsed.
oh, how can i speak when these dark flocks of raven-fears still cluster in my mind like minutemen?
i scuff at sidewalk bottle caps.
mouthing your name as i pass shriveled milkweed stalks and snuffed-out cigarettes.
once, the clock hands pointed north. they mock me now with each degree elapsed,
each angle pointing to a slew of compass-rose regrets.
mouthing your name as i pass shriveled milkweed stalks and snuffed-out cigarettes,
i hear the second hand’s advance tally my silences like rosary beads,
each angle pointing to a slew of compass-rose regrets.
if only i could pull your name from this unmerciful stampede!
i hear the second hand’s advance tally my silences like rosary beads.
every dull tock measures out those quinine conversations, sly unripened smiles, and yet i know
if only i could pull your name from this unmerciful stampede,
the cobwebs binding me to mute labyrinths of time might let me go.
every dull tock measures out those quinine conversations, sly unripened smiles, and yet i know
your redwood hands could be the ones to rescue me, and then
the cobwebs binding me to mute labyrinths of time might let me go…
oh, how can i speak when these dark flocks of raven-fears still cluster in my mind like minutemen?
your redwood hands could be the ones to rescue me, and then –
once, the clock hands pointed north. they mock me now with each degree elapsed.
oh, how can i speak when these dark flocks of raven-fears still cluster in my mind like minutemen?
i scuff at sidewalk bottle caps.
Literature
It Is In The Doing
I know what she thinks I do in the bathroom when I take a little too long,
when I'm a little too quiet.
After all, I'm a healthy teenager with access to the internet, what else could I be doing?
She knocks on the door and asks, "Hey, what are you doing?"
Smile, my dear reader.
Chuckle a little.
Sometimes she's right.
But sometimes... Sometimes I'm on the floor or pressed hard against the wall, my heart a little too fast, my breath a little too quick... my chest a little too tight as I try to keep the sound of steadily falling tears from echoing beyond the door. As I try to keep pretences to the outside world that I do not cry, that noth
Literature
to be a waste of grey matter with no self-esteem
forgive these
rorschach nerves &
mercury veins -
i am no tragedy boy,
but i have self-decay
down to an art.
this tar tongue only starts
marlboro conversations &
self-ignition;
i only start fires.
Literature
Small Talk
It's dripping with logic and reason
the question you let gently drop
onto the table between us,
“So, tell me about your life.”
And I'm watching it carefully
telling myself it won't bite
it's more scared of me than I am
and I can capture it with glass.
And I can't rest the answer there
because it's bigger and scarier
and this one will bite will sink
will tear apart the careful stitches.
It's too big for this table
and I can't put it onto you
so it weighs heavy on my neck
and the silence stretches further.
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Day 21 of NaPoWriMo.
Trying out a pantoum - it was hard. (March/April Forms Challenge)
I worked on this nonstop for a few days, and now I'm posting it before I decide I hate it and feel the need to change it all again.
Feedback appreciated!
Trying out a pantoum - it was hard. (March/April Forms Challenge)
I worked on this nonstop for a few days, and now I'm posting it before I decide I hate it and feel the need to change it all again.
Feedback appreciated!
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Comments22
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Lovely. Reminds me of a sestina.