ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
one. My addictions include
or have included: cocaine, cigarettes,
happiness, sex, that feeling everyone gets
when someone you never loved confesses
his infatuation. Alcohol, humor, pornography,
browsing the internet for poetry, politics,
and photographs of crime scenes. Adrenaline,
caffeine, dopamine, or anything that makes me
desperately horny. Gum-picking, small shocks,
attention, anonymity, but only if they
at least know my name.
two. And it felt like God's arms
in a gentle apocalypse.
or have included: cocaine, cigarettes,
happiness, sex, that feeling everyone gets
when someone you never loved confesses
his infatuation. Alcohol, humor, pornography,
browsing the internet for poetry, politics,
and photographs of crime scenes. Adrenaline,
caffeine, dopamine, or anything that makes me
desperately horny. Gum-picking, small shocks,
attention, anonymity, but only if they
at least know my name.
two. And it felt like God's arms
in a gentle apocalypse.
Gratuity Treasure Chest
Joining this tier, you gain access to a reserved extra content that are carefully crafted just for you.
Your subscription doesn't just support my art; it fuels it, allowing me to dedicate more time and resources to producing even more of the content you love. It's a partnership that propels this project forward.
Join me in this exclusive tier, and together, let's take this artistic adventure to new heights. Your appreciation fuels my passion.
$2/month
Literature
relapse
this, I think,
is the way that empires
fall.
there are sometimes
catastrophes—
Vesuvius, Alexandria—
but I will not go out
in such an explosive fashion
this time.
my second death
is preceded by decline,
slow and inglorious;
erosion working its
weary charm
upon my architecture.
the difference is this:
disaster is unprecedented.
it is a noble sort of way to fall,
at the hands of that which
you could not control.
but I am allowing myself
to crumble to dust.
the forces of entropy
have not strengthened:
I have simply stopped cobbling myself
back together.
someday, archaeologists
will discover my ruins
and sigh
Literature
ellipsis
she goes to sleep
clawing at her chest with pinpoint accuracy
for an emptiness she can’t describe,
but hates all the same. tomorrow
she will write a letter: “dear boy,
i always wanted to be somebody’s
flowery poem, but the verses carved in my arms
are riddled with ugly clichés. & you are why
i don’t sleep through the night. if
we were a language, i was the
subordinating conjunction, you were
the punctuation.
i remember you in staccato
conclusions, solemn absences
of goodbye”
Literature
O Fevrale
Witching hour, welcomed with a sigh,
bare-breasted and ink-stained in the night.
Half in love in this half-life half-light;
pisat O Fevrale navsnryd, dreaming
of the gods. Wanderer, today I died and
died again, and whispered prayers
to clasped hands… until the nestled
droplets fell away like sunrays at dusk;
and when moonrise came, I sang again.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
departing for australia today at one. have this before i go.
June 30th
June 30th
© 2013 - 2024 glossolalias
Comments32
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
This poem really gets to you. Powerful.