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Literature Text
I think I could think better with a hole in my head,
space and clarity and room for expansion.
Instead of the muffled buzz of thoughts
all over. everywhere. all the time.
The rat maze of cities in my head.
Let them explore and wander and leave me
so my head doesn’t expand and burst
with the weight of my thoughts.
Contain me. I am an oil leak.
I want to loose myself
but I want to be found.
I want to be free
But I want to know where I am.
I want adventure
and to know where I’m going.
I want the vastness of the sky.
And the freedom of the ocean.
As well as the wind’s gentle voice.
The power of the sun.
And the knowledge of the moon.
To run free as a gun dog after a fox,
and as the fox to know I’m safe.
To soar over the skies for fresh food,
and to live on the ground where it’s a promise.
To have the safety of the sun as I tread,
but to slink away as the night keeps my secret.
I am a sigh released
into the cold winter air.
Tired and frosted and reaching
But as I raise myself, I fade, I dissipate.
And the morning dew,
that lingers and glistens.
But I know when my beauty
is outshone. I disappear.
As well as the film of
oil to coat the skin.
I protect but you don’t know
so you wash me away. Gone.
I claw and reach and repair.
I try to better, I grow in winter.
But the higher I climb,
the more I try not to look down.
Because my courage shakes,
my confidence wavers,
all the voices tell me to fall.
So I am gone.
And it drapes itself in my mind like condensation,
it festers and infects and rots.
I am stained and chipped and damaged and cracked,
And my own damaged self leaks out and
I loose myself.
space and clarity and room for expansion.
Instead of the muffled buzz of thoughts
all over. everywhere. all the time.
The rat maze of cities in my head.
Let them explore and wander and leave me
so my head doesn’t expand and burst
with the weight of my thoughts.
Contain me. I am an oil leak.
I want to loose myself
but I want to be found.
I want to be free
But I want to know where I am.
I want adventure
and to know where I’m going.
I want the vastness of the sky.
And the freedom of the ocean.
As well as the wind’s gentle voice.
The power of the sun.
And the knowledge of the moon.
To run free as a gun dog after a fox,
and as the fox to know I’m safe.
To soar over the skies for fresh food,
and to live on the ground where it’s a promise.
To have the safety of the sun as I tread,
but to slink away as the night keeps my secret.
I am a sigh released
into the cold winter air.
Tired and frosted and reaching
But as I raise myself, I fade, I dissipate.
And the morning dew,
that lingers and glistens.
But I know when my beauty
is outshone. I disappear.
As well as the film of
oil to coat the skin.
I protect but you don’t know
so you wash me away. Gone.
I claw and reach and repair.
I try to better, I grow in winter.
But the higher I climb,
the more I try not to look down.
Because my courage shakes,
my confidence wavers,
all the voices tell me to fall.
So I am gone.
And it drapes itself in my mind like condensation,
it festers and infects and rots.
I am stained and chipped and damaged and cracked,
And my own damaged self leaks out and
I loose myself.
Literature
6 word stories
I. Like snow,
She was falling - white and cold.
II. Every other day,
Red lights - she sighs - shines down.
III. While he sleeps peacefully,
Eyeballs glow, secretly, under the bed.
IV. Bedsheets
Ripple like waves on the lonely bed.
V. Our kittens,
Nasty little things, purring away the afternoon.
VI. Middle-age.
Dainty hands, watch as wrinkles come.
VII.
Young faces, autumn grass, counting stars.
Literature
Softening of Armor
There was a time of great sickness-
bare bones starving out the demons
and building fragile frameworks
to withstand the stress of change.
There were doubts and defenses…
fear and then thunder-
crashing moments of shared vibration.
The epic push and pull,
full silence followed by
some sweet surrender,
affirmations of realness,
the softening of armor,
the slow, sinking sensation
of accepting a beautiful truth
whose solace outweighed trepidation.
A greatness to vanquish
all previous transgressions-
the abstruse condition of falling in love.
© M.Pimentel 2015
Literature
A broken heart
Not again, whispered a broken heart.
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