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Literature Text
Abuse
skin me
bash me
abuse me
bruise me
I want to feel you
I want to know you're here
Your intentions must be clear
so
scratch me
bite me
maul me
ravish me
in every sense of the word
my blood is kerosine
it runs
your finders are matches
our mingling sweat
is our oxygen escaping
i always forget to breathe
when i'm around you
so
nail my hands
to the headboard
hold me down
flog me
lick my wounds
anesthesize me
do what you will
crucify me
you Jew
you Roman
you lion-slaying pagan god
give an explanation/try to justify this natural phenomenon
choose the myth
that best fits your reality
make me believe in your nonsense
bark at me
cut my lower lip
break my fingers until they're shaped like elipses
stain me
steal my saintlyness away
whisper blasphemies
to my pores while i sleep
i never sleep
i am Jesus
you are Satan
this is the romance
of the spirit world
ghosts who walk
through each other
everytime they try
to embrace (our
hopelessness)
so we burn
so many eyes
the full moon is watching
can you hear the wolves howl?
stalk me like your prey
you predator
you alfa male
you depressed
and emaciated sadist
mutter a prayer
to something, somewhere
i hear bits and pieces
as you lean down to
nibble off my ear
i am bits and pieces
you have come to cauterize me
collide
two supernovas
swallowing each other
inside-out into blackhole
don't stop swallowing
till i die
you own those stars
but the moon owns you
i never feel
i don't understand anything but pain
hurt me
skin me
bash me
abuse me
bruise me
I want to feel you
I want to know you're here
Your intentions must be clear
so
scratch me
bite me
maul me
ravish me
in every sense of the word
my blood is kerosine
it runs
your finders are matches
our mingling sweat
is our oxygen escaping
i always forget to breathe
when i'm around you
so
nail my hands
to the headboard
hold me down
flog me
lick my wounds
anesthesize me
do what you will
crucify me
you Jew
you Roman
you lion-slaying pagan god
give an explanation/try to justify this natural phenomenon
choose the myth
that best fits your reality
make me believe in your nonsense
bark at me
cut my lower lip
break my fingers until they're shaped like elipses
stain me
steal my saintlyness away
whisper blasphemies
to my pores while i sleep
i never sleep
i am Jesus
you are Satan
this is the romance
of the spirit world
ghosts who walk
through each other
everytime they try
to embrace (our
hopelessness)
so we burn
so many eyes
the full moon is watching
can you hear the wolves howl?
stalk me like your prey
you predator
you alfa male
you depressed
and emaciated sadist
mutter a prayer
to something, somewhere
i hear bits and pieces
as you lean down to
nibble off my ear
i am bits and pieces
you have come to cauterize me
collide
two supernovas
swallowing each other
inside-out into blackhole
don't stop swallowing
till i die
you own those stars
but the moon owns you
i never feel
i don't understand anything but pain
hurt me
Literature
saudade
Last week, you showed up with the thunder on my doorstep.
Your voice was so drenched with the rain that I almost didn't recognize the way you said my name. It hung in the air like an incomplete sentence, like something unfamiliar, like you were so lost from trying to find everything we left behind and piece it back together that you couldn't find me in your heart anymore. It was pouring and the power was out and I was so tired of watching the world fall apart from outside my windows that I let you back inside my arms and inside my senses, and your bones were shaking as you clung to me and told me how good it felt to come back home.
There wa
Literature
Auditor of the Ashes
"I am an incalculable rhythm of distinction."
Those words being uttered from the other side of the cubicle wall were not expected, but they could not be labeled as "unexpected" in my inventory of daily expectations. "Is that so, Rod?"
"I am a paradigm of undiscovered configurations."
This second phrase fell on me as the first. "Well, that may be true, but you know how much they love it when you talk to me over the cube wall like that. I hope this audit project hasn't finally pushed you over the edge."
"I am a master of untamed neuropathic swings."
It was that statement, I see now in hindsight's tremendous focus, when I began to worry.
Literature
Romancing Cotton
Someone told me that the balled-up almost was growing inside her like
a sapling, that soon the girl would be all swell and wet. What she said
was, "don't leave". Her ego was a white sheet caught on a branch, the
type of fabric my mother treated with contempt. Frippery, beautiful
but impractical: keeping it alive was like trying to catch a bubble with
dry hands.
The wind carried the sickly smell of opium and morning sickness,
signals of a spring in which fingers like white spiders cradled
the beginning of bloom. Hope seemed at once skin-near and star-far.
What I offered her was not a marriage proposal, it was a murder
o
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