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Literature Text
there are times when i catch myself trying
to submerge my conscience into sleep's recesses,
pushing the faces into oblivion's swallowing depths,
silencing the laughter and the minute daily epiphanies
banished to where dampened meaninglessness is home
to simply release the tension and the aches from holding still too long
like i'm yearning to forget how to feel.
to submerge my conscience into sleep's recesses,
pushing the faces into oblivion's swallowing depths,
silencing the laughter and the minute daily epiphanies
banished to where dampened meaninglessness is home
to simply release the tension and the aches from holding still too long
like i'm yearning to forget how to feel.
Literature
letter to a psych somewhere
after my mother told me i would be getting a shrink, i daydreamed of all the things i would tell you about myself, how i am sometimes irreparably lonely and how on long car trips i sometimes stay awake for periods of time training my eyes to be unfocused over the white lines on interstate highways, or i sleep with my feet tucked underneath the floorboard carpets, or i read kurt vonnegut novels. after my mother told me she wanted me to talk to someone, i panicked.
here are some things you should know about me: i memorise poetry for fun. i would have an entire vonnegut novel engraved on my tombstone if it would fit. i am good at lying to oth
Literature
Letters To a Loved One
You left me with a letter, and your body empty on the floor.
I dont know how to look at you any more.
I dont know how to speak.
Behind my eyes youre tattooed in living ink
a broken lullaby, a hated memory.
I cant sleep with the thoughts, the wonderings.
Im afraid to leave you alone in the house.
(You could do it again. And this time )
...
You didnt read between the lines.
My hand trembled over those words I spoke the truth,
and you missed it.
You couldnt hear; you couldnt see my voice.
In every dream Im drowning.
Please.
Find the strength to
Literature
you are a lost cause.
you are a lost cause.
i am a liar.
and we are a decrepit house
in the richest street,
of the richest city,
in the richest country.
i resent the fact that i'm lying to myself being in your vicinity.
the fact i have a different set of voices just for talking to you.
and the fact that to even look at you,
i have to at least
pretend i don't want to pretend anymore.
Suggested Collections
i have no idea.
© 2010 - 2024 crazysingergirl
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