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Sammylovesyoulots

Published: Apr 20, 2014

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Literature Text

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Literature

Young and stupid

I feel like I grew up too fast Now maturity is expected of me However I don't feel ready What if I want to be a stupid kid? Let me fuck up, Maybe get a little fucked up Nothing too crazy Not a lot of trouble Just have some fun I know it might sound like a bit much I just wish I felt happy being alive I'm too afraid to even try

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I Will Love Myself

Silence was at my doorstep. Rain fell from the storms of my eyes and hit the cold earth of my cheeks. Sunlight fell down my face in gentle waves. And blood tinted lips smiled only slightly. The gentle spring that bloomed inside my chest had begun to grow and flourish and replace the winter whose frost had held tightly onto my heart. Silence was welcome. Tears were shed in joy. Sunlight was here to warm and blood to live. This was it. I had made it. I know who I am.

Literature

how many broken relationships does it take

it was easy to forget to love you. so perhaps it’s my fault for our brokenness for our extinguished spark; it’s as if i forgot to plug us in or light our candle but how many broken relationships does it take to screw in a lightbulb? none because there was only screwing up not screwing in none because you screwed your lightbulb in someone else i am trying to forget to love you again but i’m still writing poems about what broke us, summing us up in stanzas about lightbulbs; do you

Literature

I walk with a child

I walk with a child of buoyant energy and an innocent smile tainted by beguiling eyes which deceive his fingers into places they do not belong. With me, a child runs, his affable smiles and small bare feet encircling me, his dwindling youth burning limply on a stick held in his innocent fingers and watched with rapt pupils. Away from me, a child scampers his bright smile reflecting the fire at his fingertips as he waves and twirls the branch and its flame reaches and reaches out for him, for his consuming eyes till it reaches and grabs grabs his eyes and refuses to release his gaze. Ahead of me, a child burns and as I pass him I t

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read when you feel drained

There will be days when your thoughts overflow, teeming like hot tea in the kettle of your mind and you may feel steeped like a tea bag, as everyone extracts what you have to offer, and you're s l o w l y becoming drained but just remember when you're put in hot water: you have the strength to change it into something greater.

Literature

your smile

the sky has grown caliginous- the moon is out of sight the stars are tucked in the cosmos' blanket- enigmas of the night and as I roam through the universe, I seek safety forevermore a crinkle-eyed smile pierces the darkness- I'm so glad that it's yours.

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believe in yourself

they can steal the match away from you, but they can never steal your fire rub your bones together now, and watch your flame grow higher

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stagmata

cross of the open wound, i've been on the deathbed. i have pleaded with your angers and made peace with the red. around the corner you are listening, two steps of isolated waist. craze me with one grasp in lace. look on your facet harmonizes with the falling reign. purple with prose like it matters to the vagrant. scarlet 'round the ankles and sunlit neck bit. your sway makes moonpace look hectic. eclipse me, sweet as the dusk. cold as the dim fog of lust. slow as the silk of touch. i've been on the deathbed, drunk. crossing off sins with full plunge. dripping and scurrilous with each expunge. faculties harmed and waning, your thrust a

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choker

please do not ask me to keep you, blurry and greedy and bleeding, don't let my weakness bring shame. bark christened with a new frame cracks with the terror of a new day buried. hold me like cherry blossoms keep our secrets tucked neatly within, no grins though the knowledge spreads thin. ivy on the dashboard, the leather of the backseat, the smooth, wet metal of the engine. when you make moves there are sparks from your crushed bones rustling like the leaves that you're leaving behind, hurried. please let your desperate grave of a mouth have the power to be kind to my name.

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epitaph

the girl i did not run over looks at me with eyes that say that i am part of the problem, when i could have been her solution, looks at me like she’s blaming me for swerving away, like she’s measured every one of her steps from her door to the curb, and i am the one thing she failed to account for. i almost double back to try and tell her all the same things that i have been told but i do not. her feet are too heavy, by now. her stomach too hollow. she does not need more empty words to swallow, she does not need stop signs or yield signs or ‘for the love of god think of everyone you are leaving behind’ signs. i do no

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nailed to the counter

fivey eyed the barn door, her right forearm tingled with a quite familiar burn, it informed her tone: "you nannys ain't dealin' proper. i had hoped this would stay above-board, but if you wanna wake snakes, let's frolic!" her right arm shot out, glowing energy pulled three armed men through splintering wood; the barn creaked and the men screamed as their bodies were dragged across the dirt before being launched out the far wall. fivey stomped her left foot; the two shotguns trained on her slithered, hissed, and— with both barrels— bit the two closest men in their necks. her right foot slid behind her in a perfect half-circle,

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Where Nothing Dares Settle

we assume the fish that appears to advance without moving does so, effortlessly; as if the sea itself merely wills them forward we long to swim like this to hold our position in the universe while the earth churns its oceans past, as if its motion were ours and perhaps it might be if we could only comprehend how much lag truly resides in the linkage between space and time, then we'd know water like it knows us our ins and outs and the low places where nothing dares settle for long we'd know why sleep evades when we're most spent, as memories older than our own activate, once we traverse a certain set proximity

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Sound Carries Near a Salt Flat

the noise of a dying man is that of a humpack whale reverberating across the desert thermocline, tunneling between the dune and the horizon. he whines, low, not loud, but it surrounds us; ocean pressure straining at the sides of a submerging ship. the harpoon head of the frag bomb burns in his leg - flesh irreparably breached - as that groaning calls navigation signs to some unknown counterpart far across the sand. I can swear to you he will be gone in forty-eight hours from the sepsis if medical can't make it to this fucking shelled-out excuse for a town by tomorrow evening. I give a sedative still, his cries carry like those son

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Inspired by "Whore by In This Moment."

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PurpleRayRomeo

Apr 22, 2014

I love this <3

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