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Literature Text
people are made of little more than water and phobia,
carbon and ideal, tremorous exhalations from organs
lined with passing thoughts; yesterday you slept for
hours wracked with fever, still murmuring for fancies.
carbon and ideal, tremorous exhalations from organs
lined with passing thoughts; yesterday you slept for
hours wracked with fever, still murmuring for fancies.
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Literature
Rainlight
Rain crackled as it hit the ground, scattering sparks in every direction. It was a nostalgic kind of rain, with a warm electric glow and steam that curled upwards as the falling water smashed into the pavement.
It was a beautiful sight, but a dangerous one.
A familiar voice startled him from behind. “You actually came.”
Cathias turned from the window to see the soft glow of Matiah’s eyes blinking from the doorway. Blue eyes, the color of a sparkmoth in flight. “Of course.”
“Come then. We need you to see this.”
“The worms.” Cathias said, keeping pace wit
Literature
Krasis
we are but remnants
of warmth, imprints
of colors;
time piranhas
to our footpaths,
our blooming forgotten
in the face of a blue moon,
autumnal harvest wreckage,
long-necked and
searching
Literature
above the takeaway
Together,
we had become sculptors
carving our affairs into the mortar
and listening to the convoluted banter
through paper thin walls.
Our poverty became romantic
and perhaps,
deluded
as we lived by candlelight
and danced to the neighbours' Beatles album.
In reality
we lived like cockroaches -
a pair of many
in a big city
our dreams diverted
amongst the morning commute,
and the last sips, of the day's first brew
Paul McCartney sang Blackbird
and I watched bleary eyed
at the winter sun, smoulder, as
my belly grew with hope
and joyful fear.
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Comments8
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Truly amazing.