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Literature Text
I used to head down
to the pub on main.
We'd meet up; we'd watch
the game through
the snow on the screen.
Decipher lisped play-by-plays
and sometimes, decipher wrong.
As I swished the ale around
my sweating glass, he'd walk in.
5:22 p.m -- his late-at-night;
eyes half alive and his life, half dead.
A shuffled symphony,
while finding his never-usual seat.
Skyscrapers douse
his shoulders with doubt
as the news manages to cut in.
There, he'd order his usual;
whiskey, its warmth, a foil
to his lethargy.
Despite seeing him
on all the occasions of my visits,
I observe him;
each time he arrives,
in between football plays
and dismal economic forecasts.
Anxiety dissolves into drunken smiles,
as he sips on, two, three, eight glasses.
One is never enough.
Fingers drowning
as they lurch
along the moist bar,
hoping to get just another shot.
"I think I have to cut you off."
I don't think any insult
or instigation
could enrage him any more quickly.
Tonight, I am his personal usher
because he says he can't handle
how the floor lurches underfoot.
Muddled arms create a
vice grip on my shoulder:
I become a slurred confidant.
Groggy lisps drain from his lips
faster than he downed each glass,
"I love her more than she ever loved me."
"Isn't that how it normally goes,"
I say, humouring him
best I can.
When the taxi arrives,
I help him into it
and watch it drive away;
I can't help but wonder
just who he's coming home to--
if anyone at all.
to the pub on main.
We'd meet up; we'd watch
the game through
the snow on the screen.
Decipher lisped play-by-plays
and sometimes, decipher wrong.
As I swished the ale around
my sweating glass, he'd walk in.
5:22 p.m -- his late-at-night;
eyes half alive and his life, half dead.
A shuffled symphony,
while finding his never-usual seat.
Skyscrapers douse
his shoulders with doubt
as the news manages to cut in.
There, he'd order his usual;
whiskey, its warmth, a foil
to his lethargy.
Despite seeing him
on all the occasions of my visits,
I observe him;
each time he arrives,
in between football plays
and dismal economic forecasts.
Anxiety dissolves into drunken smiles,
as he sips on, two, three, eight glasses.
One is never enough.
Fingers drowning
as they lurch
along the moist bar,
hoping to get just another shot.
"I think I have to cut you off."
I don't think any insult
or instigation
could enrage him any more quickly.
Tonight, I am his personal usher
because he says he can't handle
how the floor lurches underfoot.
Muddled arms create a
vice grip on my shoulder:
I become a slurred confidant.
Groggy lisps drain from his lips
faster than he downed each glass,
"I love her more than she ever loved me."
"Isn't that how it normally goes,"
I say, humouring him
best I can.
When the taxi arrives,
I help him into it
and watch it drive away;
I can't help but wonder
just who he's coming home to--
if anyone at all.
Literature
Sometimes I Write...
Today was the first day of the rest of our lives.
We looked back on yesterday
and saw strangers performing
a warped mimicry
of our own intentions.
The outcome was never quite right.
We would never do such a thing.
We paved this road ourselves.
We made our beds
and now it's time to lie in them -
We made ourselves
and now it's time to lie to them.
Why save fiction for sweet dreams
and saccharine touches?
We have plenty for everyone.
You held me close and whispered
"Sharing means caring."
I read between the lines
and saw a sign printed:
Misery Loves Company.
A penny for my thoughts is far too expensive.
I am a book you
Literature
love and justice: a blind date
I now prefer
my beauty
nameless
so I can quake
and curse fate
blameless
bereft
of the burden
of discovery
avoiding left by
almost alright with
anonymity
see
once you learn
to love
it's like
riding a bike
and it seems
I never met a liar
that I didn't like
and/or
I love you's
not a sentence
that lasts
for life
or perhaps
(and this
possibility
just occurred
to me)
there's a sort of
painful
parole
obtained through
perjury
so
what's a boy
to fear
when fear's not
what it appears
to be?
how to
intuit an intent
when purpose is
a question
in perpetuity?
Literature
Contradiction
Saying one thing,
Whilst meaning another,
And changing your story,
Shows me your true colors
It shows me who you really are,
Deep down inside,
And it seems that no longer,
Is it something you can hide
You are a walking contradiction,
In body, mind, and words
You've shown each and every one of us,
Exactly how little you are worth
Your selfish motivations,
Serve only to cause grief,
But that no longer matters,
For we know in what you believe
Know that we don't believe in YOU,
Honestly, I don't feel we ever did,
And it's so much easier to say,
Now that we know what you've kept hid
Yes, a contradiction,
Meaning upon meaning a
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It started really cute, but then you had to go and make it depressing :<
But that's what makes it nice :3
But that's what makes it nice :3