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Literature Text
Sometimes I want my feelings to have temporary amnesia—
for me to forget, on a small plea from the clock,
that they’re tangible, real,
and intertwined into my senses.
I want to be innocent and ignorant of my life for a while,
to be another person in the same body
but not trapped, not bound by the strings
in my bones I forgot I put there.
I want to be free in the sense I make of the word;
utterly adrift in the embrace of the wind
like tinder kissed by fire, made strong
by every breath.
I want these things,
want and want and want them
for the days I feel like climbing on a cloud
and disappearing, to travel the world
and the galaxy like I’m not in it,
but us as friends and lovers
and both,
completely ephemeral
but that much more everlasting.
Instead I hear my soul sigh
and feel my feet planted in the ground.
Literature
Invisible spark
Like a sun resting on a stormy cloud,
My thoughts are screaming, but maybe too loud.
Like these eyes of lasers burning me whole,
When I am by myself, they take a toll.
Am I too timid? I was once alone.
Watching cliques that mold me into thick stone.
Like a volcano wants to pour lava,
When I speak, words twirl like rotten guava.
Why cannot I be me? Why must I bleed?
Like a sun resting on a stormy cloud,
My thoughts are screaming, but maybe too loud.
Literature
in the box
is a brain, removed from shell
disconnected
from signal wires. still viable (?)
maybe.
blue teeth and instant grams
and gallons of conceit;
our granular portrait no longer flatters
unless dull spots and imperfections are rendered
out in the wash--
we mask and filter, ask and answer,
bask in banter
understanding no one ever even thinks
to change the thought they've already had.
old news, rotten
if revisited. inquisitive
minds have nothing better to do
but second guess assumptions,
better than first-blush conundrums
that don't fit the formula we've written
for how the world works;
it's absurd to think
this is where our
Literature
Generation E
We are the generation of Escapists
Forget the Y, X, Z and call us E
Because we
Run away, deep inside
To our obsessive soliloquies and unreal networks
To distract ourselves from this artificial matrix
Of conventions, traditions, red tapes and mouth tapes
Superiors and deceiving exteriors
Interdictions and soothing fictions
And numb brain-dead masses
Call us the generation I for short
For we Imprison our voices
By imaginary choices
Run away, deep inside
To paint the town grey with Neurol and Lexaurin
Laugh at your death with Xanax or Rivotril
Silencing M&Ms to get you in a good place
Erase and replace to fit in, you disgrace!
Become a shell &
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Written at a time I wanted to ride a cloud and drift away.
© 2016 - 2024 DSteffi
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