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kai-relota
kai-relota
QC An ode to the things that makes me cry.
I discover I can no longer light my cigarette or Hold your hand By then… I’d be content spending my entire life In a bed with radiohead and you have to chew everything I have to eat At lounge act You’ll be reading the book for me and we will be in peace. The Body I was once in Will be yours forever. (I only made you up inside my head, **** you Sylvia)
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May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 3:29 AM UTC
Softer Softest
“The tower is my body, the cage is my skull, and the spirit singing to comfort itself is me. But I am not comforted, I am alone. **** me.” Sexing The Cherry - Jeannette Winterson The boy who came from the sea was born In 1989 with eleven hyenas and a powdered grace and an IV in one of Those sad street lights One mid-morning all the neon light flickering from last night’s Tired and under-sexed collision of bodies on mercury. The mother beget the sea while she was dancing and All the exotic and fancy things that come with it Is written on the newspaper She dangled back and forth in the chandelier while giving birth and a gun in her Hand: the whole world was in her hands. Blood and flesh debris are pink as shore and pale as rubies like Exploding stars. People begin to ask you: “How’d you stay alive?” The mother’s nightly arrival at that city burns the sorrows of all the light bulbs: “Help me please” typed on a marquee. If you sing the birth of your death, everyone will sing: lie down, don’t cry be alive again. The sea born seemingly dead already returning back to hell, only can be restored by The mother’s lovingly touch but the touch of hers burns the sea When she is barely warm. Cold-hearted angels will rescue you and you’ll be free- Only for tonight. The sea, sized milk carton box and the mother drives south this year. People filled to watch the sea but it radiates they can’t be near you. No one will save you.
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May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 3:27 AM UTC
This is not a poem.
Deathly thorns was not in the position of Sinking where it doesn't hurt the rose, it subtly Grazes far and wide in every limber parts, heedless To its world of illusions where way round never finishes.
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Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
And then my heart beats like a hammer...