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Literature Text
My body is a trail of blood marks, cigarette burns and ravenous ferocity down your throat because you once kissed, courted, and tantalised death for the sake of painting cyclones and hurricanes on the blank slate heart you thought I had. I'm a poison ivy growing, tangling, twining around your star crossed future I was erotically, maniacally, co-dependently in love with. I spit serpent tongue and baby spiders onto your hipbones just so you could turn into a haphazard maelstrom and toxic wasteland and see that I'm merely a pigtailed child tethered to a bedpost and you are the mural showcasing my feral tantrum.
I'm sorry I swallowed champagne hearing you shrieked, crumbled, and gritted your teeth as your millisecond conscious tricked you into thinking your harrowed stutter can ever be laced to a parachute and you can thread between the seams of reality and evaporate in the last breath of a white aspen tree of a deforested rainforest. I'm sorry I didn't notice that you buried the monarch I gifted you with cement just so you could stop hyperventilating and I'm sorry I didn't realise that the monarch had a skin of a snake and a habitat made up of hornets.
Even so, I'm not colossal cannibal and I'm not savage siren. I'm not gasoline setting your skin into endless combustion and scalding cries and I'm not gunfire smoke sending your heart on high speed collision with your ribs just to see you choke and puke and die.
I'm sorry you had to see me grow from tickle monster and silly giggles to bloody teeth and towering shadows. I'm sorry I clouded the horizon between your reality and fight or flight response with the green crayons we used to paint together. I'm sorry I can't autonomically shift my reality to shards and break free of gravity's sovereignty to become figments of your night terrors that can surreptitiously slip away. I'm sorry I can't tell you that I'm merely a mirage of the monsters under the bed and I don't have bonfire between my teeth and I can't force acid fumes into your shrinking alveoli unless you inhale; but I'd tell you this: you need to make it stone number one to believe that you are a manuscript of celestial potency, that your bathroom muffled cries and panic attacks from dearest me doesn't make you any less incandescent than the you in your 10 year old pipe dream, and you can destroy my entire being with the click of your fingers.
I'm sorry I swallowed champagne hearing you shrieked, crumbled, and gritted your teeth as your millisecond conscious tricked you into thinking your harrowed stutter can ever be laced to a parachute and you can thread between the seams of reality and evaporate in the last breath of a white aspen tree of a deforested rainforest. I'm sorry I didn't notice that you buried the monarch I gifted you with cement just so you could stop hyperventilating and I'm sorry I didn't realise that the monarch had a skin of a snake and a habitat made up of hornets.
Even so, I'm not colossal cannibal and I'm not savage siren. I'm not gasoline setting your skin into endless combustion and scalding cries and I'm not gunfire smoke sending your heart on high speed collision with your ribs just to see you choke and puke and die.
I'm sorry you had to see me grow from tickle monster and silly giggles to bloody teeth and towering shadows. I'm sorry I clouded the horizon between your reality and fight or flight response with the green crayons we used to paint together. I'm sorry I can't autonomically shift my reality to shards and break free of gravity's sovereignty to become figments of your night terrors that can surreptitiously slip away. I'm sorry I can't tell you that I'm merely a mirage of the monsters under the bed and I don't have bonfire between my teeth and I can't force acid fumes into your shrinking alveoli unless you inhale; but I'd tell you this: you need to make it stone number one to believe that you are a manuscript of celestial potency, that your bathroom muffled cries and panic attacks from dearest me doesn't make you any less incandescent than the you in your 10 year old pipe dream, and you can destroy my entire being with the click of your fingers.
(G.L)
-Notes from the devils in your lungs
-Notes from the devils in your lungs
Literature
The Walls of Deception
You once pleaded with me to follow you through one of the Doors of Perception, but I didn't want to take that trip. No, I had my happy and successful future all mapped out, and it was supposed to put me on a different plane than the one you were flying high on.
Yet you were the one who landed laughing. My trip ended in a crash. You are still seemingly young and wild and free. The world can remain your oyster, with you as its pearl.
I am trapped here, where I have found myself encircled by walls which themselves are surrounded by trenches and barbed wire. This is a prison of my own making, a hellish price I pay for my deceit, my errors, my n
Literature
you're ruining your teeth
i think i
lost my way with words -
maggot-skulled,
i've unlearned imagery
or:
13 cavities
rotting to
bone-crowns &
starvation-poetry
Literature
Through the looking glass
The grass wasn't greener on the other side. It was sea foam at dawn and hunter at night, sparkling like diamonds when covered in dew and long enough to wave in the wind. The grass would mesmerize me, the flowers tranquilize me, the sunset would lull me to sleep. It was prettier there, the land beyond the glass.
Have you ever had a fantastic fantasy, a place where you were in a constant state of awe? Mine was handheld and gilded in gold, and it was my most precious secret.
Surrounded by shining ropes of auric lay the most delicate mirror. A relic of my grandmother's, she left it to me with a note that read, For my little dreamer. May your r
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This prose is written with the point of view of an inner demon in mind, just something to remind you that you can handle your worst days and you have the power to face whatever that is scaring you.
Thank you so so much for browsing, feel free to leave a comment, and have a lovely day.
Thank you so so much for browsing, feel free to leave a comment, and have a lovely day.
© 2015 - 2024 Milk-and-Pie
Comments23
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What an emotional piece of writing! I've never really read something like this, it's absolutely fantastic. Every sentence you compose is almost tangible and is heart wrenching. It's obvious in your writing that you compose with your heart and soul, and that is something I respect and look up to. Keep up the good work!