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Literature Text
my cat
has turned
my front porch
into a graveyard
as if to say:
this is what we need
but tonight
she tried to lick my claws
back to hands
& I said to her:
"I do not have 9 lives
to spend on the bathroom floor
with 13-hour insomnia
can't we just kill the mockingbirds
pull the concrete
out of our throats
& get this dying
over with
already"
but
she's got 8 lives down
& doesn't answer questions twice
has turned
my front porch
into a graveyard
as if to say:
this is what we need
but tonight
she tried to lick my claws
back to hands
& I said to her:
"I do not have 9 lives
to spend on the bathroom floor
with 13-hour insomnia
can't we just kill the mockingbirds
pull the concrete
out of our throats
& get this dying
over with
already"
but
she's got 8 lives down
& doesn't answer questions twice
Literature
Spineless
My mother always told me I was born with four spines. They stay there, side by side, in my ramrod straight back, the reason for my very correct posture. So when my back began to arch, people noticed.
My parents were first. You look different, they would suppose as I would approach every morning for breakfast. Is something wrong? My mother would question. Are you ill? My father would ask.
I had a gift with the vague and I used it to my only advantage in this scenario. Because telling them the truth would be a lot more devastating. How would I tell them about the fact that my bones, my spine, the very part of me they admired most, was depreci
Literature
Two Years Later
She asked him gently, “Do you love me?”
In his long silence, she found closure,
And left her love under a willow tree.
Literature
Have You Been Writing Lately?
I have dishevelled hair so I shave it
To the scalp and to the point that I bleed
I no longer want to write my thoughts down
So I’ll try anything to set them free
It is not my pen that is the problem
And my fountain of ink has not run dry
I’m not experiencing writers block
These thoughts are twisted and I don’t know why
I have a multitude of memories
That my mind chooses to manipulate
In to more disturbing scenarios
That only the wicked ones can relate
If I cant find purity within me
Why do I bother to write anymore
Like a lost soul that is tired of life
Maybe death is something I should explore
I have always walked am
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Oh, I lost my sense of rhythm again. >:l
My cat & I are the same age, by the way. She's rather old in cat "years." ^^
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Comments93
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Sorry to hear that, hope she's strong.