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Literature Text
A knife for cutting, trust it's sharp.
A drill to bore holes
to let light into the dark.
Next's saw for hard, ridged places
then the hot iron
to be placed onto faces.
A needle lies there, with invisible tip
you soar through the heavens
on an injected trip.
A scoop for the the eyes and pumps for the blood
to wither your form
into a cold leather glove.
Anticipate to cleanse the mess
that drips from rubber hands
the trade that save lives
just as deadly as those that take the flesh
A drill to bore holes
to let light into the dark.
Next's saw for hard, ridged places
then the hot iron
to be placed onto faces.
A needle lies there, with invisible tip
you soar through the heavens
on an injected trip.
A scoop for the the eyes and pumps for the blood
to wither your form
into a cold leather glove.
Anticipate to cleanse the mess
that drips from rubber hands
the trade that save lives
just as deadly as those that take the flesh
Literature
Descent into Madness
It has returned In the dark silence I sense its presence Watching me Stalking me Mocking me Just like before Lurching in the stillness Hiding behind every turn Staring menacingly It crawls near me whispering of invisible worlds “You’ve ignored me for too long,” its raspy voice exclaims. “I frightened you when you were young so, you simply pretended I wasn’t there For all these many lonely years. I was always near" "Now you’re old and you can ignore me no more” The fear crawls inside me but it no longer trouble’s me I feel myself shattering into a million pieces but becoming a part of a million more I sense comfort and strange familiarity of a forgotten home Slithering softly by my window-seal searching for a crack to float through Its mist mingles and lingers with the steam of my morning coffee There's something inside of us that we're all trying to destroy An apparition, phantom presence that we're trying desperately to ignore It mockingly stares back at me from the
Literature
waver
dance with me in this breeze scented with warm sunset cinnamon; let it play with your sweet baby hairs and loose little tears and tiny little worries until the dying light seeps into your soul and you transform now a half-wavering creature made of twilight and faerydust shimmer me, my darling! I want to be your rainbow sherbet girl: the moon dirt to your faerydust, the dusky grey dawn to your burning embers almost-night-light, the sharp newborn starlight to your heavy-bloody-deathless light catch my scent of cedar and citrus on the rain-speckled wind and follow me, humming-skylark-songbird lover of mine let’s waver together amongst the trees and remind the deciduous ones why pines rule them all when your lovely-sweet-sharp scent surrounds me with a crisp kind of warmth, all I can think of is h o m e
Literature
the new you
as one grows becoming who one truly is should be more surprising than disconcerting especially when one occupies that embodiment of the newer person and finds how nicely everything fits llp - dA - nov2021 DD dec02/2021
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