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Literature Text
it's ironic,
isn't it? the way
they say "hunger gnaws"
like the way our teeth
scrape against bones.
for all the
calories that are counted,
you still feel
empty. you aren't
beautiful until
you are digesting
nothing but air
and maybe your own guilt.
that's just the way
living is these
days: swallowing
glass shards to
slice up your insides so
you can ignore
the other kind of pain your
stomach is feeling.
but when people ask
if you're doing okay you just
smile and nod even though
you can't help but
think "if honesty was
tangible, i'd eat it right
now."
life has
an acquired taste and
some days you'd
like to rip your
tongue out.
isn't it? the way
they say "hunger gnaws"
like the way our teeth
scrape against bones.
for all the
calories that are counted,
you still feel
empty. you aren't
beautiful until
you are digesting
nothing but air
and maybe your own guilt.
that's just the way
living is these
days: swallowing
glass shards to
slice up your insides so
you can ignore
the other kind of pain your
stomach is feeling.
but when people ask
if you're doing okay you just
smile and nod even though
you can't help but
think "if honesty was
tangible, i'd eat it right
now."
life has
an acquired taste and
some days you'd
like to rip your
tongue out.
Literature
To be a writer
You taste like decaying leaves
and October's bad habits-
when it’s halfway through February
that still haunts these bones.
I have allowed you to
claw your love
into my arms
and chant into my
uninterested ears
for much too long.
I wish I was one of those girls
who could say wild flowers
grow up through my nooks
and my crannies just to tear
through my skin, screaming.
I’m just that dead eyed deer
on the side of the road dreaming
of shoving a pen down my throat
and writing these verses inside out.
I am no scribe, prophet, or spell caster.
I know it.
My skin knows it.
My pen knows it too.
Years and years
from now
my mind will d
Literature
dear,
when i first met you,
terror chilled down
the heat
of my
louisiana
spine.
i shivered
& my heart
began to build
walls over walls
over walls-
beating:
fuck this,
i won’t let them
hurt you, again.
i have a tendency
to get knocked
off my feet
& not know
how to get back up.
i’m still crawling around,
searching for your heart
beats under my bed
& between my tangled
sheets.
i am pathetic.
but,
you were all crooked,
misshapen insecurities
& nights of forgetting
to take your zoloft.
i didn’t think I would miss that.
i didn’t think I would miss you.
you fell like a meteor
for him, hours after
you demolished me.
& i ca
Literature
wishbones and flowers
I think it’s selfish
how I have compared
every other kiss
to yours.
( After all-
good things don’t
invite themselves into the lives
of little girls who categorize
their disorders by the scars
on their wrists and who
allow strangers to hang them
from their necks like wishbones. )
But, no one’s hands
have ever staked claim
to this scavenged wasteland
like yours-
not even my own.
And it’s hard to forget that;
please forgive me.
As you wil
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a collection of messy thoughts
while staring at my dinner plate.
© 2013 - 2024 lupus-astra
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That last stanza.