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Literature Text
There's a hardness to my gaze sometimes
Deep within these bulbs of mine
They jerk abound so ferally
Glide no more as easily
I don't know how to get it back
A spectral something I now lack
It traveled down and out the spine
And split the slits 'til something cracked
It gave a scream upon its leave
It left me ever wondering
Was it because I'd seen too much
Had I snapped, or had my crutch
Deep within these bulbs of mine
They jerk abound so ferally
Glide no more as easily
I don't know how to get it back
A spectral something I now lack
It traveled down and out the spine
And split the slits 'til something cracked
It gave a scream upon its leave
It left me ever wondering
Was it because I'd seen too much
Had I snapped, or had my crutch
Literature
Red Dress, Blue Dress
I send Blue Dress to class today, because Red went yesterday and if she has to hear Donnie pronounce denizen wrong one more time, she will explode right there into crimson flames. Blue spent the day at home on my bed, reading The Namesake and filling a whole page in my journal with musings about identity. She's too much in her head sometimes. A little forced socialization will be good for her.
She's my Blue Dress, but that's only how I think of her -- today she's wearing a block-print t-shirt I made in art last year and my favorite pair of dark jeans. The part that makes her Blue Dress is where she smiles at the crossing guard and asks how h
Literature
Heroshipping...
Pokemon fan fiction short
Heroshipping
Skit
“Who the hell is this kid?” Ray asked as a general question, starring down at the red headed boy in front of him who glared back with emerald green eyes.
“Why don’t you try asking me what my name is?” He demanded.
“Oi! They make them so feisty now a days.” John commented to one in particular, “Especially the short ones.”
“I thought we were supposed to be meeting someone who belongs to a shipping that the author just found out about.” Cody said, “It can’t be this kid, can it?”
“Colosseumshipping is the only
Literature
Quick
Stuck in a room with people sicker than me,
It can move quick as can be;
a disease that no one can see
'til my MRI's lightin' up
like bomb strikes
fired up like a war zone
gets brighter
with every pain
every tremor
every word I can't remember
and my hand's going numb
while the doctors keep mum
and the sum of my parts
keeps getting closer to none.
Struck dumb
as I jump from med to med
hoping for one to fix my head
before it's all been said
and I wish I was dead.
It keeps me high on my toes
even when I can't use those.
I suppose
there are those
who'd propose
I've a gift
telling me to spend my time with more thrift,
but most folks saying this
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