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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
January 8, 2013
Fifty by *zephyrtronium "portraits the inner struggle born from what you don't want to want, but still do in a very straight forwarded way," says the suggester.
Literature Text
Please understand: I do not want
to want this (you).
I realized at poem nineteen-of-fifty:
You (college-borne) are a new you,
I (weaponized) am a new me,
and the new me still wants the new you.
to want this (you).
I realized at poem nineteen-of-fifty:
You (college-borne) are a new you,
I (weaponized) am a new me,
and the new me still wants the new you.
Literature
for unseeing eyes
laden with sky
we stumbled
and painted mockingbirds
on loveless branches
folding in our slender limbs
and ducking under our own
voices, fidgety and frail
against the wall of night.
between the dipping blades
and drawn shoulders
we learned to craft our words
steady-soft,
a drumming rain
that carved canyons
in open hearts and
drew the sunshine to
our supping lips.
keen-eyed, we watched
remembering the weight
of unseeing eyes
and scalding remarks
and we learned to slip
the noose-knots and slide
through the soul-cracks
and somehow
build kingdoms under
upturned noses.
with lyrical uncertainty
and tender determinat
Literature
moondust.
we live in a world where our lungs are black and outlined with angry streaks of red. we plant diseases and destruction in the holes of our stomachs and watch them grow they shoot up fast and clog up our throats with ashy leaves.
our fingernails are ripped, jagged edges digging into pale skin and leaving white hot lines in their wake. our wings are crumpled, feathers bent and pressing into the expanse of our backs they're the weights on our shoulders, and there's no space left for anything else.
your tongue is cracked and so is mine. words no longer form, sounds no longer rise. dreams and wishes fall into the cracks as nig
Literature
Plow
It's finally snowing again,
blankets of peace falling
with a freshness that lacks innocence.
Nearly forgotten, they're here as expected,
clearing the streets,
trying to push aside all the worry
that makes things unsafe, but
the steel mouth askew grates against my heart;
its thick bass scrape pushing more than piles of white aside,
it pushes my blood aside too,
piling it up in the corner of this pumping vessel that falters,
ice-caked and bitten, stiffened,
and keeps faltering,
again,
and again,
and again,
until the air is silent
and the street no longer shivers in torture.
The only evidence is the blanket of white
that keeps
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I'm sorry. I thought maybe, after enough time, I would learn to move on, but I guess I was wrong.
I read exactly fifty poems you wrote while I was gone. If I still have to capture a surge of jealousy each time I read the word sex, or kiss, or hold, then I can't read those words anymore. If I still wonder whether any of the stories I read were about me, then I can't read those stories. If I still wish I had a chance, then I can't take one.
I'm sorry.
I read exactly fifty poems you wrote while I was gone. If I still have to capture a surge of jealousy each time I read the word sex, or kiss, or hold, then I can't read those words anymore. If I still wonder whether any of the stories I read were about me, then I can't read those stories. If I still wish I had a chance, then I can't take one.
I'm sorry.
© 2012 - 2024 zephyrtronium
Comments57
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Overall
Vision
Originality
Technique
Impact
I've never seen anyone sum up that feeling (it really doesn't have a proper name, does it?) as succinctly, clearly and devastatingly as you have here. I hate saying something is fresh because it sounds so Hollywood, but this is: like a blast of cold wind, it wakes me up and shocks me back into feeling alive.
Scored you so high on vision because I know it's truthful (and on impact for obvious reasons); originality is hard to come by no matter what subject you take on, but you did a great job of keeping away from cliches, which also plays into the technique. The simplicity and brevity is just right: like you know it needs to be said, but it's too painful to linger on for long.
I'm sorry you have those feelings, but I'm also grateful that you've chosen to take them and turn them into a beautiful piece of literature that will remain in my mind for a long time. I'll be showing this piece to my friends, and I hope they're as struck and moved by it as I was.