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Literature Text
I’d like to believe
the scars on my hands and
the stars in the sky
were brothers once.
I’d like to believe that
there is night
and day
and sometimes, if I’m lucky
it isn’t both at once.
There’s a plastic bag full of stardust
like those people carry drugs,
close to the heart,
closer to the bones.
And she always said I’d be like them.
Lost and desperate,
and so the stardust is in the river.
This is my story,
you get pencil, and I get ink.
And the stars are mine forever.
I’ve been lost before.
They say time is cycles,
that there is day, and
there is night, and day again
but you’re lying.
They put a clock in the wall
and said time-passes,
everything-ends-sometime
but I’m still lost.
Maybe we’re all lost together.
That’d be a nice thing to think.
But we all know I don’t believe it,
we all know because I’m
crazy-dangerous,
and while we’re all in this together
I’m lost far enough to hear
the sigh of relief.
We’re all lost together.
Except they let me
get separated.
No one gets left behind
is for people who count
as ‘one’.
I will wander among
the stars.
The sky is
the biggest-thing-forever
and it’s also the most
personal.
I stand two-foot lost
and one-voice lonely
but the stars can’t
ignore me.
I think I’ll be a star
soon.
Y-o-u impersonal
(because we’re all
not stars today)
used to like
the moonlight
and y-o-u, (remember)
you tried to fill your mug
with moonlight,
but there was too little,
or maybe there was just too much.
Dumped down the drain.
Now I’m a star, I’ll drown
in forever (who’s name is
tomorrow-today)
And years ago in yesterday
I watched stars sink in the lake,
which was a lie, because
there was no line between
real and solid.
And the flashlights were lanterns
and the shooting star sunk
deep below where the sea monsters go,
deep,
and I jumped off the pier to find it
and lied, you know,
I said I slipped.
Now-yesterday I’m sinking
into forever.
There has been day
and night again
and there has been dark
and there has been light
and I have drowned-drowning
here like tomorrow, now like
yesterday
but it’s funny,
the stars fell,
and they were faces.
They helped me put stars
on my ceiling
but this time I wrote the constellations.
the scars on my hands and
the stars in the sky
were brothers once.
I’d like to believe that
there is night
and day
and sometimes, if I’m lucky
it isn’t both at once.
There’s a plastic bag full of stardust
like those people carry drugs,
close to the heart,
closer to the bones.
And she always said I’d be like them.
Lost and desperate,
and so the stardust is in the river.
This is my story,
you get pencil, and I get ink.
And the stars are mine forever.
I’ve been lost before.
They say time is cycles,
that there is day, and
there is night, and day again
but you’re lying.
They put a clock in the wall
and said time-passes,
everything-ends-sometime
but I’m still lost.
Maybe we’re all lost together.
That’d be a nice thing to think.
But we all know I don’t believe it,
we all know because I’m
crazy-dangerous,
and while we’re all in this together
I’m lost far enough to hear
the sigh of relief.
We’re all lost together.
Except they let me
get separated.
No one gets left behind
is for people who count
as ‘one’.
I will wander among
the stars.
The sky is
the biggest-thing-forever
and it’s also the most
personal.
I stand two-foot lost
and one-voice lonely
but the stars can’t
ignore me.
I think I’ll be a star
soon.
Y-o-u impersonal
(because we’re all
not stars today)
used to like
the moonlight
and y-o-u, (remember)
you tried to fill your mug
with moonlight,
but there was too little,
or maybe there was just too much.
Dumped down the drain.
Now I’m a star, I’ll drown
in forever (who’s name is
tomorrow-today)
And years ago in yesterday
I watched stars sink in the lake,
which was a lie, because
there was no line between
real and solid.
And the flashlights were lanterns
and the shooting star sunk
deep below where the sea monsters go,
deep,
and I jumped off the pier to find it
and lied, you know,
I said I slipped.
Now-yesterday I’m sinking
into forever.
There has been day
and night again
and there has been dark
and there has been light
and I have drowned-drowning
here like tomorrow, now like
yesterday
but it’s funny,
the stars fell,
and they were faces.
They helped me put stars
on my ceiling
but this time I wrote the constellations.
Literature
Turn my words against me.
I want my words to take
root in your stomach and grow
up your esophagus, the calyx
of your tongue brushing the edge
of your teeth until the words blossom
from your lips in a slow
explosion of elegance, jawline
trickled with nectar, charming
hummingbirds and honeybees
with the promise of butterfly kisses.
Literature
a thousand lilac garlands
Your spine is a ladder, and she
braided it with flower crowns.
Her pressed-lace fingers coil tight
in the wet tangle of stems
as she climbs higher, kissing
the smooth bone with her toes.
She knew the only way
to your heart was through your mind,
but it's a mighty high ledge to reach
and her delicate palms just kept -
slipping.
So she braided your spine
with flower crowns to
keep her grounded, even as she
shinnied into the clouds.
Literature
Before I Can Become a Writer
Develop insomnia. Develop
problems with substance abuse,
nothing serious, but enough
that I can say “write drunk,
edit sober” and mean it.
Drink tea. Write about drinking
tea. Take up smoking, ignore
the thoughts about it being
a slower suicide. Write about
suicide. Don’t mean it.
Write about sunsets and
ink veins. Mean it.
Fall in love with someone
who will never love me back.
Lament. Write a million
crappy poems and two good
ones. Never show him.
Move on. Write a few more
bad poems. Fall in love with
someone perfect. Screw it up.
Fall in love with someone awful.
Call him perfect. Screw it up.
Cry. Cry for the inevitab
Suggested Collections
I like stars.
Arbitrary bonus points if you get either the references or what the title refers to.
Arbitrary bonus points if you get either the references or what the title refers to.
© 2014 - 2024 Synesthi
Comments3
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I dunno about the references, really, but... this is absolutely gorgeous. The flow of the words (I was listening to Amaranthe's "Drop Dead Cynical" while reading this, and your words just went in the same rhythm as the song...) is incredible, the imaginary, the emotion... Just overall a beautiful, captivating piece.