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Literature Text
I hitchhiked down the highway to hell
With four fifty in my back pocket
And a suitcase of nightmares hitting my heels
There's black lipstick smeared on my collarbones
Vodka dreams slithering through my hair
Tonight, I'll be a monster
Swallow you up with paint fumes and a bottle of schnapps
The red pickup shudders and my hips creak
Like brass hinges, then I'm there
And Cerberus sniffs at my bloody wrists
I pop pomegranate seeds like pills and Hades
Can't make me look back cause tonight
I'm a monster
And no silver bullet will shatter me
With four fifty in my back pocket
And a suitcase of nightmares hitting my heels
There's black lipstick smeared on my collarbones
Vodka dreams slithering through my hair
Tonight, I'll be a monster
Swallow you up with paint fumes and a bottle of schnapps
The red pickup shudders and my hips creak
Like brass hinges, then I'm there
And Cerberus sniffs at my bloody wrists
I pop pomegranate seeds like pills and Hades
Can't make me look back cause tonight
I'm a monster
And no silver bullet will shatter me
Literature
Nightdance
We danced like monsters:
lurking shadows atop gravestones,
long-limbed, and hungry.
We were hips and stitched lips.
Clinging widows to a dying mate.
You held my hand, whispering,
"Scream, Baby
S c r e a m
lets wake the dead."
And in the end,
we collapsed
like fallen soldiers.
Literature
Sacrilege.
The first time I met you, we walked down the railroad
tracks hand in hand, and I let you break all my fingers,
one by one. "There's beauty in pain," you said, and you
were in my bloodstream, a drug dancing through my brain.
God, for you I wanted to be beautiful, I wanted to be
magnificent. In the dark of my room, you cut me open and
tore me apart, planting poison in my chest like a bird cage,
until there was a fluttering new fear that would fill me up.
I asked you once if you were the devil, but you laughed and
showed me the holes in your hands and the hollow in your eyes.
"I want to be saved," I begged, and you etched the Lord's
p
Literature
comatose.
i never told you:
i hated the way you smelled
like winter, like
fog or listerine or
something long forgotten.
i guess i miss you the way
i miss brooklyn,
all thirsty for a song
i've never heard, pining for
a place i've never been.
homesick.
--
i never told you:
i keep your old promises all tucked up inside,
like bruises sleeping fallow
along my hipbones.
i promise i'll love you always, i promise
i'll fix the coffee machine tomorrow,
and if you let me,
i'll fix you
well, you never were a fixer.
what you are is tired, and you never understood
why this fucked-up little town
unmade its bed, swallowed an
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Comments15
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haha woah sounds totally badass