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Literature Text
You would kill them, slowly.
Every slug on the wet sidewalk, a silent victim
to your salt revolver
and I would say nothing.
I would never stand up to you,
my voice cowering in its box.
Maybe I was terrified, a slug myself
or maybe I liked to watch things die as well.
But that would make me a murderer
and I don’t think I am ready.
Not yet.
Not now.
So I took several quiet minutes to gather my voice from the cobwebs
and when I opened my chapped lips to tell you
you cut me off at the knees.
-D.E.M
Every slug on the wet sidewalk, a silent victim
to your salt revolver
and I would say nothing.
I would never stand up to you,
my voice cowering in its box.
Maybe I was terrified, a slug myself
or maybe I liked to watch things die as well.
But that would make me a murderer
and I don’t think I am ready.
Not yet.
Not now.
So I took several quiet minutes to gather my voice from the cobwebs
and when I opened my chapped lips to tell you
you cut me off at the knees.
-D.E.M
Literature
mother
mother with whistle, button and mace
drops her weapons to the hospital floor
and screams.
father rejoices - a princess! i'll teach her
everything.
mother still screams.
father, laughing - i pity the boy who asks for her hand.
mother holds baby and shrieks.
father's skin crawls - why aren't you happy?
mother screams. mother howls. mother, inconsolable
(everyone dies but girls are always
born dead)
Literature
The Pride in Aging
Hey, you!
Quit pouring rust remover
over an old heart,
don't you know that red oxide
is the part of my soul
that just barely keeps the blood vessels from leaking
and corrosion the thing that shaped my inner landscape?
I may be old
my joints squeaking
my mind full of memories you can't see
and my skin allergic to digitalization –
But you
with your still squeaky clean heart
those baby eyes unblinded by recognition
and those ears that hardly listen
do you even know how to breath yet?
Literature
What I would say
I tried to be angry with you, mother.
Angry that you were so often absent.
Angry that you gave me some pretty shitty genes.
Angry that you gave up.
You taught me how to lie to people.
How to hide from your problems.
How to run away.
I tried to hate you for it, tried to punish you by pushing you away.
But you loved me.
And I loved you.
I couldn't help it.
I idolized you as a child.
You were the angel that kept away my father's demon.
You were warmth, and safety.
But you weren't healthy, and it had to show eventually.
When I realized what you were doing to yourself,
I started to crack,
Started to hate the world,
Started to see lies in eve
Suggested Collections
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Part of my "Soft Needles in Sharp Places" Collection.
© 2015 - 2024 ParalyticProcess
Comments5
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Your poetry takes the air out of my lungs, I swear. Just beautiful.