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Literature Text
She thumbed my wrists like old poetry books -
m-dashes, underlines and damaged spines.
I wrote cursive scripts over her lips,
hoping the ink would drip into my hands.
We laid down my head beneath blank pages
a poet bleeding meaningless words
into dark spaces.
I placed her mouth onto the doorstep and stepped back,
pressing my hands to white corridors
searching for meaning.
hospitals are just pretty morgues.
m-dashes, underlines and damaged spines.
I wrote cursive scripts over her lips,
hoping the ink would drip into my hands.
We laid down my head beneath blank pages
a poet bleeding meaningless words
into dark spaces.
I placed her mouth onto the doorstep and stepped back,
pressing my hands to white corridors
searching for meaning.
hospitals are just pretty morgues.
Literature
About the death...
...that dare not speak its name
People can (and will) treat you in two ways:
1 - They (mostly your family) will worry about you all the time, not leaving you alone for a second, treating like you're made of glass that can break into a million pieces at any second for numberous of reasons (Let's not say anything bad or sad to her because she may try it again) and they ask you all the time if you're happy and if everything it's ok; when they see you're serious, quiet, contemplative and alone they secretly freak out wondering if you're considering doing it again...
2 - Other people stay away from you as far as they can. They avoid you because
Literature
Life and Death
The problem with life is:
I always want to die.
The problem with death is:
I would never know if someone cried.
Literature
Childhood
I am a child again.
I am playing hide-and-go seek under
my bed covers, kissing my pillow and
singing the sweet song of asphyxiation
with a scarf tight around my neck.
I am popping pills like dime-store candy
but getting no sugar high, just a low
low
low
low
low
and chasing it all down with bitter amber.
I am playing Daddy's little girl ("Little Miss
Anorexia", now), writing angry, scrawled
notes instead of carefully drawn birthday
cards and messy pictures.
I am sitting at the table, playing the great
game of life; but my piece has toppled over,
the cardboard world upside do
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more from the hospital collection from my most recent hospitalisation.
© 2010 - 2024 Rosary0fSighs
Comments4
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This cut right through me. Your writing is so eloquent.