ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
someday we won't remember this—
no one will, not the dirt or stars,
not the dust scattered when a sun
dies and the universe swallows its birth
not the men who wasted lives
proving theories long debunked or
the whores leaning in doorways to fuck
soldiers who won't come home
and no one will remember the dog
hit on route sixty-three, the first guts
i saw glistening in summer heat
just as no one remembers i was the kid
they called to crack open the fire hydrant
because no one else could and they
shrieked, soaked in water no one remembers,
soaked in water that could have saved lives,
water circling into the sewer,
waste no one
remembers.
no one will, not the dirt or stars,
not the dust scattered when a sun
dies and the universe swallows its birth
not the men who wasted lives
proving theories long debunked or
the whores leaning in doorways to fuck
soldiers who won't come home
and no one will remember the dog
hit on route sixty-three, the first guts
i saw glistening in summer heat
just as no one remembers i was the kid
they called to crack open the fire hydrant
because no one else could and they
shrieked, soaked in water no one remembers,
soaked in water that could have saved lives,
water circling into the sewer,
waste no one
remembers.
Literature
Sehnsucht
October again;
and the curtains billow
with broken glass echoes and
Mendelssohn's bride waltzing
to better times
(ein
zwei
drei)
She becomes the rain,
and breaks her own heart as the sound
drips
right through us.
Literature
Absolved
echo girl drops down so far,
(so dark) she swears it is heaven:
exodus, this final breath
strapped to the wings of fairies
and forced to fly away,
light like the gossamer sun
seeping in her skin and the
repetitive reshedding of her
meager lungs, exodus
the awakening and glorious release—
swan-dive into everything she ever wanted,
where the broken jaded looking glass
never shines right and the spiders
nest between her spine and he
still calls her beautiful and she
drops this faithlessness in exchange
for a quiet dawn.
Literature
Museling
Red wine rambles
curdle the air, but still
you dream; half-moon
body curled in the
lamp light. I am leaving,
I am leaving, choking on
some holy word—
the floorboards creak,
a sonata for my
changeling shadow
whilst you, hair tangled upon
the pillow, are spun gold.
Suggested Collections
x
© 2012 - 2024 glossolalias
Comments21
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
"shrieked, soaked in water no one remembers,
soaked in water that could have saved lives,"
was that originally in this piece or is my memory failing me again
soaked in water that could have saved lives,"
was that originally in this piece or is my memory failing me again