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Literature Text
Speaker of thoughts
Lying in the shadows
Whilst rose in my hand
A blade of dripping blood
From a lover's body
This dagger rises to dry
Between the bones of my ribs
Laugh he shall, it booms
My best friend the shadow
Rising up behind our backs
Lying in the shadows
Whilst rose in my hand
A blade of dripping blood
From a lover's body
This dagger rises to dry
Between the bones of my ribs
Laugh he shall, it booms
My best friend the shadow
Rising up behind our backs
Literature
Escrtito #2 que te dedico.
Ya mi mente envenenada con tu persona ni siquiera puede recordar la razón del por qué estos sentimientos tan destructivos que siento por ti. Ni siquiera sé si tienen sentido mis palabras, cuando hablo de ti me siento como una loca enjaula. Mi locura es el amor que me provocas y mi jaula el deseo que no sacio. Me siento como una estúpida porque me tienes a tus pies y lo sabes, lo sabes porque mi actitud incontrolable te lo demostró. Hay algo que si recuerdo, aquel primer día de clases, aquel sol de 8am que encendía tu pelo color caramelo, aquella mirada profunda atrapada en el vidrio de tus lentes, las vuelta
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
Adios
Son las seis de la mañana y el aire comienza a enfriar los cuerpos que se encuentran en el andén; apenas es verano pero el frío no perdona a los foráneos. Vapor sale de las ventanas que se encuentran junto al viejo reloj que hace mucho dejó de emitir el tic tac que anunciaba el próximo llegar de los convoyes. El concreto del edificio hace que las plataformas luzcan más frías y lúgubres de lo que deberían. Gris y noche hasta donde alcanza la vista. Los olores de la tierra empapada por la lluvia aún cuelgan en el aire esperando quien los acoja.
Las máquinas estáticas que esperan
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I've been watching too many ghost shows... I saw one that talked about "shadow people" and now just watched one where a possessed man killed his girlfriend and then himself. So, I mixed the ideas.
Thoughts on the style of the language? It feels less prose-ish.
And for those who comment, I'm curious: Is anyone else interested in the paranormal? I've had a couple of iffy experiences - I believe that spirits can exist, but I'd rather be skeptical than jump to belief.
Thoughts on the style of the language? It feels less prose-ish.
And for those who comment, I'm curious: Is anyone else interested in the paranormal? I've had a couple of iffy experiences - I believe that spirits can exist, but I'd rather be skeptical than jump to belief.
Comments12
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I'd like to think I'm skeptical, it leaves it open to thoughts and opinions. I have thought that mate the paranormal can be real, but for some it is just psychological. Perhaps they just imagine these things when there is no true logical explanation, or certain memories could create illusions. At the same time though, what can not be proved can not e disproved. It is left up to people's own opinions and thoughts on the subject, and everyone is different.