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Literature Text
My name is Jamie.
I am five.
My parents think
I'm still alive.
One day after church
A man grabbed me and then
He pulled out a gun
And put it to my head.
"If what you say is true,
Then this boy won't die."
He pulled the trigger.
Mommy cried.
My parents were sad
For a very long time,
But eventually they decided
I was still alive.
Mommy prays for me.
She says I was "saved."
That I'll live forever
In a wonderful place.
I'm not sure what she means.
I'm still here.
I've been watching my parents
All these years.
They don't seem to hear me
And I don't think they can see
That I still live in our house
Just invisibly.
I am five.
My parents think
I'm still alive.
One day after church
A man grabbed me and then
He pulled out a gun
And put it to my head.
"If what you say is true,
Then this boy won't die."
He pulled the trigger.
Mommy cried.
My parents were sad
For a very long time,
But eventually they decided
I was still alive.
Mommy prays for me.
She says I was "saved."
That I'll live forever
In a wonderful place.
I'm not sure what she means.
I'm still here.
I've been watching my parents
All these years.
They don't seem to hear me
And I don't think they can see
That I still live in our house
Just invisibly.
Literature
Catapedamania
i know they dont want me to jump
I have forever harbored inside me a fascination with edges.
My first memories are of standing on a cliff, wanting oh so badly for it to crumble under my feet. I saw a line separating earth and sky, and an urge rose in my chest to blur it.
This feeling of always being on the very tip of reality, wishing I could lose my balance and plummet, only intensified as I grew older. I found such sweetness in thoughts of stepping over sidewalk cracks to plunge into a world with nowhere left to stand on.
At the same time I was afraid normal boys didnt think of falling as I did, didnt wan
Literature
Hold the Line
riiiing.
riiiing.
riiiing.
riii-ck.
"Greetings, caller.
This is an automated service:
Please be patient while we process
your personal details,
and place your call on
hold,"
-- Hold on to a
final call for the faithless,
as fingers twitch a tuneless tattoo
upon graffiti casings; stacatto codecs
broadcast in desperation to
anyone, anywhere...
"Your continued custom
is our conscious concern.
One of our representatives
shall take the time to
speak-"
-- Speak in riddles,
subtle stranglehold puzzles
that tie in tangled, intricate knots
around this line against my throat.
I'm strung-out and up,
ready to hang
"-with you."
Literature
Suspended Animation
We will hide in rooms
of corpses in clear coffins;
our names carved into every surface,
our fortunes told in fish eyes
and sharks teeth.
We are frogs in formaldehyde,
puffed up like tear-stained faces,
motel pillows;
we are jellyfish in jars,
hanging like bleached willows;
tangled tentacles dangle, flaccid,
and spectres of the Pacific
will not stir us.
In the mother-of-pearl,
in the birds of paradise,
in the ribcages and tortoiseshells,
we linger, petrified,
and do not hope to be unearthed.
Now we stand like stick figures
pinned to twilight
as orange and blue hesitate in the sky;
starlings swarm across the stuttere
Suggested Collections
Written in September.
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Comments124
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Oh wow, that's incredible. It's so innocent and sweetly written, but it's calling on much deeper subjects. Nice!