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Literature Text
His heart was like a Cheshire cat
Always grinning, always cunning
It would bring you to the edge of the world,
A smirk on its face,
While it pushed you off,
Watching you fall into a volatile abyss.
His brain was like steel,
Hard, steady, logical,
Finding explanations to everything,
Not accepting,
Always denying,
Constantly arguing,
It would carry you to the edge of the earth,
And watch as crimson digits spill out your mouth,
Into the moist-soil filled ground.
His ego was the worst,
It would stretch and wrap around itself,
Like the alimentary canal,
Slier than time itself,
Praising itself,
From the time the orange wisps travel through the sky,
Until the kaleidoscopic sparks lick through it.
His lips were a mystery,
Taking me through the edge of time,
Singing a perpetual lullaby.
Always grinning, always cunning
It would bring you to the edge of the world,
A smirk on its face,
While it pushed you off,
Watching you fall into a volatile abyss.
His brain was like steel,
Hard, steady, logical,
Finding explanations to everything,
Not accepting,
Always denying,
Constantly arguing,
It would carry you to the edge of the earth,
And watch as crimson digits spill out your mouth,
Into the moist-soil filled ground.
His ego was the worst,
It would stretch and wrap around itself,
Like the alimentary canal,
Slier than time itself,
Praising itself,
From the time the orange wisps travel through the sky,
Until the kaleidoscopic sparks lick through it.
His lips were a mystery,
Taking me through the edge of time,
Singing a perpetual lullaby.
Literature
You Owe Me This
I want you to bury me
When I'm gone and plans are made,
I want that shovel in your hands
Lay my body in its grave and let the earth flow
Add your sweat as well as tears to the soil that will cover me
Take your time
No need to rush
I think I deserve just that much
How does it feel to be over me now?
Come on, baby, tell me how
Literature
Waltz
Your half moon fingernails flick
like dust on the ceiling fan blade,
almost-silent whirs that say
somebody is home.
Around my head you draw
imaginary halos
with your pointer-finger,
ring-finger
index-finger tangled
in my pony-tail,
and we're dancing with our backs
to the walls.
I pretend that you're a poem
and read you quick like I'm
performing spoken word
and you're microphone
so close to my mouth
that you reverberate.
And the cat twitches his tail
like he should have been
included in our turned around feet
counting
1-2-3
1-2-3
1-2-3.
It was a waltz after all.
Literature
Asylum's Rant
Within these corridors,
she is Queen
and when she speaks
her voice shakes sleep
out from under
the quivering shell
of spine's own feet
and it's documented
-somewhere-
how they've seen her
in teetering dance
with those antiquated demons
of 'froth' and 'lurk'
Me; I only watch her,
those high heels clicking,
rounding corners,
checkmarking tiny boxes
with that fancy white pen of hers
--her wrists and fingers
adorned in silvery sevens,
crystal-like glasses
perched
in low singsong
upon her nose
and that high strut
of the
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Comments17
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I love the imagery!!! Especially the comparison to the Cheshire Cat, thats my favorite stanza