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Literature Text
One discharge is all it took,
To end the life of a woman,
Who wouldn’t stop.
Wouldn’t stop loving.
Wouldn’t stop fighting.
Yet wouldn’t stop feeding,
Into her own jumbled psychosis.
One discharge was all it took,
For her to fall in love,
With me, the rich.
Rich in morals.
Rich in dollars.
Yet rich in all the vices,
That this badge of mine protects you from.
Knife brandished.
Pictures taken.
She had me in a corner.
Justified.
But uncontrolled.
She gave me what I needed.
I got my own redemption,
While she kept her smile.
I’ll keep this in my own mind,
To catch sleep tonight
To end the life of a woman,
Who wouldn’t stop.
Wouldn’t stop loving.
Wouldn’t stop fighting.
Yet wouldn’t stop feeding,
Into her own jumbled psychosis.
One discharge was all it took,
For her to fall in love,
With me, the rich.
Rich in morals.
Rich in dollars.
Yet rich in all the vices,
That this badge of mine protects you from.
Knife brandished.
Pictures taken.
She had me in a corner.
Justified.
But uncontrolled.
She gave me what I needed.
I got my own redemption,
While she kept her smile.
I’ll keep this in my own mind,
To catch sleep tonight
Literature
In March
Gray clouds on brightest blue
Slowly go thudding by.
So they buried Old Man Winter.
I say that he did not die.
The boring sun cannot blot out
The crimped dread from land and sky,
Tensing for a reckoning.
I'll burn again, by and by.
The bare trees stand straight, sky-pulled,
Against the wet and melting snow.
What has all winter clung to branch
And trunk, that makes all outlines glow?
It is not time for April rains
To lull the thing that clings to bed.
The God is on the land again,
And is singing in my head.
Literature
Hotarnet's Vessel
“Let me go!” I screamed out as the sets of hands firmly latched to my wrists dragged me toward the mouth of the volcano the group of us was gathered upon, I kicking and screaming shamelessly while the priest recited the blessing.
“…our actions have angered the Earth and Hotarnet has been awakened. To atone for the grievous errors of our ways, may Hotarnet accept the blood of a virgin and be appeased.”
“Stop this! You can’t do this to me!” I shrieked, thrashing like a wild animal while the heat spewing from the mouth of the volcano sucked the moisture from my skin, the temperature
Literature
budding
march, soon after death had grazed
a rotting hand over my heart,
came gallantly into the year
and stirred another start
her hands were strong and sage
and while they cradled me, a child,
by her sap-soaked barks
I formed my tears into a pile
march, with sooty eyes, could pluck
the burs right from my hair
came with her lily promises
and sung them in my ear
her breast was moist and flush
and while I suckled like a babe,
no coffin once did pass me by,
my feet did tread no grave
march, with rending teeth that tore
and swallowed all my leprosy,
spit back the sun, spit back the moon,
spit back a thousand seeds
into my belly, ripe and huge,
and
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