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Literature Text
My body begins to feel brittle from the blood I'm loosing.
I grab myself tight while I fight fate to stay alive.
I open my eyes....
I see the most beautiful low lit lunar embodyment of my higher power.
My moon was peircing the clouds, the black paint..
Is this why I was brought here? Have I angered her?
..... And keep them on my darling
From the pool of crimson life lost. I lie.
I grab myself tight while I fight fate to stay alive.
I open my eyes....
I see the most beautiful low lit lunar embodyment of my higher power.
My moon was peircing the clouds, the black paint..
Is this why I was brought here? Have I angered her?
..... And keep them on my darling
From the pool of crimson life lost. I lie.
Literature
My Suicide Machine
I’ll wrap you up in duct tape
For sealing in the gas
Place cardboard over every vent
Breathe every fume en masse
Embrace pictures oh so dear
Of places never seen
With whisper rolling tears I’ll praise…
“My Suicide Machine”
Tall electric power grid
With hum and whir and sigh
One leap and scale with no detour
One thousand feet on high
Oh, the winter brings those gales
Grey blotting out the green
Close eyes, tip forward angel wings
Sweet Suicide Machine
Oak dowel for the clothesline
Five dollars ninety-four
And nylon length will show its strength
Weight hanging from the door
Wrap tight taut those thirteen
Literature
Generation E
We are the generation of Escapists
Forget the Y, X, Z and call us E
Because we
Run away, deep inside
To our obsessive soliloquies and unreal networks
To distract ourselves from this artificial matrix
Of conventions, traditions, red tapes and mouth tapes
Superiors and deceiving exteriors
Interdictions and soothing fictions
And numb brain-dead masses
Call us the generation I for short
For we Imprison our voices
By imaginary choices
Run away, deep inside
To paint the town grey with Neurol and Lexaurin
Laugh at your death with Xanax or Rivotril
Silencing M&Ms to get you in a good place
Erase and replace to fit in, you disgrace!
Become a shell &
Literature
Broken
And the pieces never quite match up
And the glue that binds them
Is only ever so strong
That one drop
And the whole thing
Falls apart again
And it becomes this cycle
Of picking up the pieces
And pasting them back together
Only to find yourself falling
All over again
And again
And sometimes you think
You’ve found solace
But it was only ever fleeting
And the cycle starts again.
Suggested Collections
Revealing the plot.
© 2010 - 2024 Jeffrey-Heartbreak
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