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Literature Text
have you ever seen
inside a palace?
it's just like
the cartoons.
just like Anastasia,
rustling gowns
and gold rooms.
the ghosts are there
but no one cares,
not even the ghosts.
they roam the halls
on afternoons
planning weekend balls.
i saw my ghost
in polished wood
on the dancing floor:
haloed by a
chandelier,
not a human form.
imagine:
someone lived here.
a body just like ours.
imagine--
i'm trying...
but it's weird.
inside a palace?
it's just like
the cartoons.
just like Anastasia,
rustling gowns
and gold rooms.
the ghosts are there
but no one cares,
not even the ghosts.
they roam the halls
on afternoons
planning weekend balls.
i saw my ghost
in polished wood
on the dancing floor:
haloed by a
chandelier,
not a human form.
imagine:
someone lived here.
a body just like ours.
imagine--
i'm trying...
but it's weird.
Literature
...
fine then, just leave me alone
let me rot in this "shithole" existence
you don't like it?
well it's none of your business
try to turn me around
put me on "the right path"?
it won't work
you haven't experienced such wrath
and then experienced the everlasting calm
but you'll never understand
all you know is the bad
all you remember is sad
i'm sorry you felt the need to cut me off
it's a real shame
and you weren't even involved
as if our friendship was a game
well i miss your friendship
you hurt me just as badly
as the one you criticize
still, i would renew our bond, gladly
if you weren't this way or that
stubborn, hard headed
just open you
Literature
i.
Within blue eyes
anemone and starfish
abound, and seaweed eyelashes
move leisurely with the tides.
At sunset they sparkle,
lined with golden sand
and swirling without a sure direction,
becoming cloudy as a storm brews.
Beware, anger flashes across the surface,
where riptides catch the unwary
ships and sailors, wrecked
and broken amongst its depths.
Only the brave venture in,
attracted by the untameable,
roaring waves and sharp wind.
Eyes stinging, they enter the battle.
Slowly they themselves become blue,
the cold clinging to their skin,
sucking out all their warmth.
Then white as stone,
lips cracked and filled with salt
that leaves a bitter
Literature
TACENDA
they thought you were magnificent.
the girls that pirouette with you because they thought your sibilated hymns of venus and saturated stars were charming. they don't see the whisper of desolate tears and punctured hearts and an eccedentesiastic boy as they glide with you across the floor. you think it doesn't matter.
you think it will heal.
and i pitied you, boy. because the hope of yours will be your downfall.
your destiny was decided the moment you chose the effervescent, sanguine laudanum over the fractures of your violin strings and the cuticles that now protect the emulsion of ophelia, your mother, and the emanated paint that reminds
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i keep having the most vibrant flashbacks of the short time i spent in St Petersburg, Russia.
i must have left a part of me there!
hopefully that part is dancing in the bulb of a chandelier
that was painted with liquid gold.
with a brush made out of squirrel hairs.
i'm not being ridiculous. it's real.
in Peter & Paul Fortress, for example.
they painted the inside of the church with gold
using squirrel-hair brushes.
because they're such fine brushes.
I'M SERIOUS.
i must have left a part of me there!
hopefully that part is dancing in the bulb of a chandelier
that was painted with liquid gold.
with a brush made out of squirrel hairs.
i'm not being ridiculous. it's real.
in Peter & Paul Fortress, for example.
they painted the inside of the church with gold
using squirrel-hair brushes.
because they're such fine brushes.
I'M SERIOUS.
© 2014 - 2024 capricecake
Comments1
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This is sweet and funny, very lovely!