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Literature Text
I fell in love with words
long before I kissed a boy
or girl -
I watched the world
through virtual glasses,
zooming in on syllables
wherever I went,
lapping up knowledge
with the fresh thirst
only children have.
The first time I wrote my name
I wasn't satisfied with it,
and had to writewritewrite
to make that first bout
of crooked scribbles
alright -
a whole world
had opened itself to me
with pencil on paper.
It's true;
the first poem
I ever wrote
was my name.
long before I kissed a boy
or girl -
I watched the world
through virtual glasses,
zooming in on syllables
wherever I went,
lapping up knowledge
with the fresh thirst
only children have.
The first time I wrote my name
I wasn't satisfied with it,
and had to writewritewrite
to make that first bout
of crooked scribbles
alright -
a whole world
had opened itself to me
with pencil on paper.
It's true;
the first poem
I ever wrote
was my name.
Literature
our past summer in sentimental reverse
(A little longer. Stay. )And the Days may lay its tendrils around Our pale wrists, the flood may Sweep us away without An afterthought. But today The flowers shatter their souls (Like fleet. Like snow. )We Press our prints in the pink blankets Soft. Wordless. Not a sound Rolled around on the shedding (If you say go I will run) into The the far distance. You drink Words like honey thick and dripping Cloying, to ease the sadness sour Stored at your throat like a lost Scream. (There are knives in your bones You say, knives that cut with every embrace To love you is to wound you, a kiss Shatters as much as a punch Now go) your words grow black Into black iron claws that dig Into my flesh as i (run) Traps behind kind words that melt Here is my sincere rotting heart Leave me awhile, no, with a Light finger I cling to the hem of your shirt (No, stay) so what tore us apart The falling sun paints your face And for a frail second it was as if I saw the darkness within you, behind Scars and
Literature
Untitled 9.9.23
The path is never as we plan it to be nor can we predict the magnitude of choice
Literature
virtual reality life game multiplayer mode
a preferential necessity, rank what is of most value to you all the rest is ignorable cannon fodder to life, easy to overlook like a song you don't really like in a album you listened to once and forgot about in a week that kind of connection, barely there if you cannot give it your all then rush through it, speed read pages on a book, text blocks on a screen you don't even pause- to think because there was no thinking even instinctively you walk the plank blindfolded your heart you know it really wants to sing but life has value. it's short and so you list, i list out of utilitarianism, a list of what needs to be clutched onto with a dead grip, and what is disposable
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For UnsungWritersGuild 's weekly challenge #4:
Prompt: "Write about your writing roots. How and when did you start? BE CREATIVE!"
Prompt: "Write about your writing roots. How and when did you start? BE CREATIVE!"
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That last stanza is just....