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Literature Text
Do you ever feel like
Something is there
With you,
But isn’t there?
Like you feel something or someone
Hanging around you,
But sometimes don’t even acknowledge
That they’re there?
I’ll tell you this now, if you want:
They’re there.
Every writer has one.
Something is there
With you,
But isn’t there?
Like you feel something or someone
Hanging around you,
But sometimes don’t even acknowledge
That they’re there?
I’ll tell you this now, if you want:
They’re there.
Every writer has one.
Literature
Real Estate
The cost of intellectual property has gone up.
I can already feel the ideas curdling like milk,
Strings of silver silk lining
Tangling it up so neatly--
A package for the loan-shark in my bed in the morning.
A message to my lover, to whom I owe such a debt:
All you ever do anymore is take.
My poems crumble at the touch,
Fading into the clusters of Sunday brunch and Family Guy reruns.
What's the price of the two seconds of quiet
Without a pile of unfilled lines awaiting my autograph
Ruffling through the papers you'll have me sign-
What wouldn't I give to sign with the devil, over you...
Teetering on the corner of thought,
My pen limp and b
Literature
Labyrinth of the Physical Form
You dare to wander throughout the catacombs
And search every scum-filled corner
In search of something you may never find.
Be careful,
For the blood dripping down the walls will stain your white shirt
And the grim underneath will wear your feet down.
You'll become entangled in the tendrils of my faults,
And the sins will ensnare you in a death grip.
The air is suffocating
And the walls drip with poison of the mind.
The inner passage
To my heart, somehow still beating,
Is not worthwhile,
Yet you insist on finding the me
That's still lost in a dream.
You shine so bright
In my darkness,
I don't want to put you out.
Literature
Prince of Darkness
this is all i have now, little hero.
the world itself
is static and silent.
i’m breathing cold smoke
from blue flames and mining
for a spark of life
in depths that know only death—
it has come to this. eternity
is a palpable shadow, little hero.
tread lightly, or else
i may yet let you live.
as for me, i will stand
no more such torment. there is
a hunger for death
which cannot be sated vicariously.
and so—
little hero, little fiend …
your flame is still strong …
come now, bring me
to embers, to ashes, to dust.
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For me, he's right here. I don't acknowledge him most of the time, but I do occassionally know he's here. *coughwordspiritscough*
© 2014 - 2024 AsakoBunny
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I'm glad you can sense him. I'm not that lucky 