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Literature Text
Burnt
9/25/2012
years ago,
i was
marinated
in a bitter
liquid
that bit
at my
brain.
it left
sores,
now
scarred
but still
itchy,
festering,
&
infected.
i was
breaded
in
baking soda
then
dipped in
vinegar,
just
to make
the Devil
laugh.
happy
to
oblige.
before,
i was
just
bleached.
now i
am burnt.
my skin
peels back
to reveal
newborn
flesh,
weak
&
succeptible,
exposed
&
inviting
all
bacterium
in.
the tests
all come
back
inconclusive,
my diagnosis
cunningly
evades
idenitification,
like a well-read
shape-shifting
chameleon,
an instinctual
master of
disguise.
I.
I.
I ...
i have
to bite
my nails
down to
the quick
or else i
can't stop
myself from
picking at
these
old scabs.
i'm molting,
i sense
that soon
i'll abandon
my pupal stage,
and morph,
maybe not
into the
gossamer butterfly
everyone expects,
but hopefully
into something
with wings,
hopefully
something
that can lift away
& stop getting
burnt by
these
chemical
ashes.
9/25/2012
years ago,
i was
marinated
in a bitter
liquid
that bit
at my
brain.
it left
sores,
now
scarred
but still
itchy,
festering,
&
infected.
i was
breaded
in
baking soda
then
dipped in
vinegar,
just
to make
the Devil
laugh.
happy
to
oblige.
before,
i was
just
bleached.
now i
am burnt.
my skin
peels back
to reveal
newborn
flesh,
weak
&
succeptible,
exposed
&
inviting
all
bacterium
in.
the tests
all come
back
inconclusive,
my diagnosis
cunningly
evades
idenitification,
like a well-read
shape-shifting
chameleon,
an instinctual
master of
disguise.
I.
I.
I ...
i have
to bite
my nails
down to
the quick
or else i
can't stop
myself from
picking at
these
old scabs.
i'm molting,
i sense
that soon
i'll abandon
my pupal stage,
and morph,
maybe not
into the
gossamer butterfly
everyone expects,
but hopefully
into something
with wings,
hopefully
something
that can lift away
& stop getting
burnt by
these
chemical
ashes.
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
I Mean to Get You Alone
You have sharp
pulse-elevating teeth
the stuff I imagine heart attacks
are made of
I'm bent on selling you a handful of smiles
specifically crafted
to distract you from the fact that
I have almost nothing to say
and now you're steering this conversation
in a direction that suggests you've
forgotten that I
don't watch movies or do much of
anything but work which maybe
explains why one glass of wine gets me
wrapped around you
car to streetlight
crash style
mangled limbs
breeding curious onlookers and my insurance has
expired
you're leaning in and all I can think is
I don't have insurance
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very visual and inspiring you're awesome