bitter hug of mortality by orangecloudsraining, literature
Literature
bitter hug of mortality
so you sit there,
your awkward little hands folding awkward little birds,
as if you could inhale your own paper wings.
so you sit there,
and you think
about you watching the people and the people
not watching you.
and i whisper darling,
darling the only thing you're good for
is reading walt whitman out loud
to your used-to-be-white walls
until your throat chips, and your eyes dust over.
and you just shift your weight
and shake your head
like something
buzzed in your ear.
Just wrote this monologue ^^ by SeeThroughNinja, journal
Just wrote this monologue ^^
Monologue: Flowers? For Me? By, Jared Gang
*open- Hispanic accent preferably female or high pitched*
Ok officer I'm pretty sure you have like the right to remain silent so like uh-shuddup. (pause) Oh… that's me… (pause) What? (pause) You want me to talk about myself? Well My name is Evangilaniquashashawnalasukidesuka. (pause) Where does that name come from? (pause) Well My mother is half African-American and half Mexican and my father is from Japan. (pause) I know sukidesuka isn't a part of my name but all of my friends say it because in
love poem at 30,000 feet by consolecadet, literature
Literature
love poem at 30,000 feet
my loneliness an object,
a teacup or a teakettle
you
are my lodestone,
my magnet-
ite,
my
100 meters left of true north
my
soul ecto-string spooling out behind me
30,000 feet up
and the albumin-sea-jellies dragging their way across the mashed-potato sky
cold,
i am clad but feeling
numb-brained white-noise engines
organized turbulence unchaos
you are my lodestone,
my magnetite,
and i'm making my way across the sky
she has a heart of gold
and she, a heart of lead
and she, a heart of uranium.
and they go walking sometimes, the three of them.
gold is confident in her worth,
untarnishable
bought and sold and bought and sold
the virgin whore
and lead behind,
heart heavy in her chest
guilt from bullets
and pride from pipes
and anxiety from irreparable brain damage
and somewhere off to the side treads uranium,
tumors growing,
white skin glowing,
thin frame for a dense core.
She Waits For Me:
Her touch is mercilessly chilling
When she appears inside my room
I can hear her gibbering softly
As she mutters words of doom
The lady pushing the brink of delusion
I am cornered to the edge of my waning sanity!
I shatter mirrors and reflective surfaces
To preserve some sense of humanity
Yet they say my delirium is a mere illusion...
Ha! They judge the things that they cannot see
She comes to me in depths of the night
Because she knows I cannot flee
Do you know the feeling of waking up
With her grinning face before me?
Rotting teeth and swollen flesh;
It would be better not to see!
But tonight I shall end t