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Literature Text
we need to stop getting drunk and having sex.
it would make a lot of sense.
it would make me feel a whole lot better about myself.
---
when she says
"i don't want to die."
what she actually means is:
i don't want to die young and fat.
and
i don't want to die in a hospital.
well, we don't always get what we want.
---
bare bones are on display
and "god" you say.
"god, it's bloody gorgeous."
and god -
well even he won't forgive us.
---
"it's like rain or something equally wonderful and immeasurable."
that's what you've heard.
well, i've heard that you don't know an awful lot about anything.
then again -
i swear i've heard mermaids singing and
you telling me you love me.
but how could that be true?
---
he says he likes it when she acts her fucking age and
"what's wrong?"
"i can't stop coughing up blood and –
crying and –
i can't sleep
and
and-
and
can we not just
please.
can we -"
---
i used to think it was just normal to find dead babies,
and now - i think it's far too hopeful to wish for children.
---
"we need to stop getting drunk and having sex."
we need to?
"it would make a lot of sense."
would it?
"it would make me feel a whole lot better about myself."
well, we don't always get what we want.
it would make a lot of sense.
it would make me feel a whole lot better about myself.
---
when she says
"i don't want to die."
what she actually means is:
i don't want to die young and fat.
and
i don't want to die in a hospital.
well, we don't always get what we want.
---
bare bones are on display
and "god" you say.
"god, it's bloody gorgeous."
and god -
well even he won't forgive us.
---
"it's like rain or something equally wonderful and immeasurable."
that's what you've heard.
well, i've heard that you don't know an awful lot about anything.
then again -
i swear i've heard mermaids singing and
you telling me you love me.
but how could that be true?
---
he says he likes it when she acts her fucking age and
"what's wrong?"
"i can't stop coughing up blood and –
crying and –
i can't sleep
and
and-
and
can we not just
please.
can we -"
---
i used to think it was just normal to find dead babies,
and now - i think it's far too hopeful to wish for children.
---
"we need to stop getting drunk and having sex."
we need to?
"it would make a lot of sense."
would it?
"it would make me feel a whole lot better about myself."
well, we don't always get what we want.
Literature
we could never say
'-one year.'
'strange how things change.'
'i didn't know you a year ago.'
'you'll still know me in a year. promise you'll remember me, us-'
'gone. two words.'
'it still hurts.'
'i can't.'
'i thought we had it all.'
'we were perfect.'
'yeah.'
'what happened-'
'-no.'
'no.'
'do you ever think it could've been different, better?'
'not better. we were already there.'
'at our peak.'
'yeah.'
'i still think about us.'
'i know.'
'you do-?'
'i dream about it too; and you're always there staring back at me when i close my eyes.'
'you're my last thought when my breathing slows and my heart carelessly springs with the mattress.'
'it'
Literature
hard to see with closed eyes
dear boy,
well, the phone won't stop ringing and the baby's still crying. but you are no longer the fourteen-year-old scene boy i fell for. you cut off your hair and youre now almost a man. you are almost nineteen. you leave lights on because you like wasting perfectly good things like electricity, time, and love. it's like setting a house on fire and just walking away, not watching the beauty in the flames as they twirl. i can't say i'm much better though, because i always want what i can't have. it's lunch time and in the cafeteria line-up, i'm beside the head cheerleader. i look at her tray and say, "i want what she has" because she
Literature
Singing to the Wetlands
I'm the girl with bayou eyes,
twigs, mud and death snaking into my curls.
I pause to breathe and s-h-o-c-k,
shock sets in:
Day One.
Earthen clasps latch on my arms,
pulling me back down;
the meandering waters clutch
at my bell-shaped elbows.
Day Six.
My smile is climatic;
the sun always seems to shine,
burning the layers of leaves
but I can't even put up a fight
to remember its grace.
Day Seventeen.
I'm surrounded by an animalistic embrace--
mismatched light from alligator stares
and throaty frog musings.
Day Twenty-eight.
I forget what color
the back of my eyelids were.
Suggested Collections
"you know what, fuck him."
(but that’s what got you into this mess in the first place.)
i probably should put content warnings,
yes? no?
i don't want too. but -
i don't know.
(but that’s what got you into this mess in the first place.)
i probably should put content warnings,
yes? no?
i don't want too. but -
i don't know.
© 2009 - 2024 wordcut-outs
Comments14
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You have no many times I have come back
to this page to reread this poem.
It is utterly perfect and it never gets tired.
I would just like to perfectly thank you for
writing this because I love reading it.
to this page to reread this poem.
It is utterly perfect and it never gets tired.
I would just like to perfectly thank you for
writing this because I love reading it.