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Literature Text
last night, i had a dream
that i fell in love with a boy who had five eyebrows and
his mother tried to engulf me,
as her body was like the sea.
i escaped through a tunnel
leading into the ceiling.
there was a ladder, but i climbed quickly,
swallowing my fears of heights and tight spaces.
his mother was too wide to follow behind me,
and he was too afraid.
the ladder came to an end
in a strange little room.
there were harps,
some arched, some that were only one pitch.
there were cellos, which dangled from the ceiling
by a string of floss.
there were contrabasses.
casting their shadows over me.
it was like an attic,
small, dusty, warm, no windows.
maybe these instruments were all hiding from the woman
who dared to wrap herself around me
and consume me.
maybe i was just like they were.
a song i know says,
"if the heavens ever did speak / she's the last true mouthpiece".
am i a vessel for beauty and music, just as these masterpieces are,
glowing warmly in the dim tungsten,
poised and ready for performance...?
there was no trace of the fat woman anymore.
there was no trace of the many-browed boy,
but i did not love him anyway, really, he had five eyebrows,
and i think i was confused.
my destiny lies in this room
with these delicate objects
because here, i am home, i think
here with a bunch of objects
which are just like me
in a world of cannibals and alien boys.
that i fell in love with a boy who had five eyebrows and
his mother tried to engulf me,
as her body was like the sea.
i escaped through a tunnel
leading into the ceiling.
there was a ladder, but i climbed quickly,
swallowing my fears of heights and tight spaces.
his mother was too wide to follow behind me,
and he was too afraid.
the ladder came to an end
in a strange little room.
there were harps,
some arched, some that were only one pitch.
there were cellos, which dangled from the ceiling
by a string of floss.
there were contrabasses.
casting their shadows over me.
it was like an attic,
small, dusty, warm, no windows.
maybe these instruments were all hiding from the woman
who dared to wrap herself around me
and consume me.
maybe i was just like they were.
a song i know says,
"if the heavens ever did speak / she's the last true mouthpiece".
am i a vessel for beauty and music, just as these masterpieces are,
glowing warmly in the dim tungsten,
poised and ready for performance...?
there was no trace of the fat woman anymore.
there was no trace of the many-browed boy,
but i did not love him anyway, really, he had five eyebrows,
and i think i was confused.
my destiny lies in this room
with these delicate objects
because here, i am home, i think
here with a bunch of objects
which are just like me
in a world of cannibals and alien boys.
Literature
A Confused Adult ft. Descartes
You see, it was easier before Bodies were seen, not Heard. It was easier when our Stick limbs and small Hands were faeries, when Dreams were more real than Reality, when we could be Dragon trainers and princesses and witches and To be something meant to be something In our heads. It was easier before bodies Were, at all, really, Before we grew taller and Wider and out and around and Before our bodies were Seen, not A placeholder for A mind. It was easier when being a mind Meant being an imagination; It was easier when we didn’t have to Read books just to feel Like ourselves Again which really meant To be no one at all Because deep down isn’t that Who we all are? It was easier before Strangers made us Afraid of our own bodies, Reminded us that We are our skin. It was easier before Middle school jokes and Prods and late bloomers and It was easier before Everything was about Being. Seen. It was easier when being a mind Was being at all. But we live in the after. And so we
Literature
Winter Moon
High up in the sky The Moon is shining brightly On snow covered firs Mountain stream muffled by ice Intricate snowflakes dancing
Literature
lyrical collage
I could create a world with the sound of your voice reflecting sweet syncopation against the brashness of life
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okay guys im sorry if this poem is weird yes i know it may be strange to imagine a boy with five eyebrows but i was just as freaked out when i actually had this dream last night. yeah this poem is based on the dream i had last night and everything i remember about it. and yes, the boy really did have five eyebrows. two where they would normally be, three which were above them. his forehead was like this: -_-_-. and that freaked me out, so in my dream, i found myself in a room with the poly-browed boy and his mom (who looked like aunt marge post-curse from harry potter). the boy smiled at me and i immediately saw his five eyebrows...i got scared and ran away from the boy. his mother chased me and caught me, because she wanted her weird 5-browed son to marry me. then she started to squeeze me tightly and press me into her body. i felt her wrap around me like a big old pillow but i broke away somehow and ran towards a ladder going into the ceiling. then i climbed up and discovered a room full of stringed instruments.
anyway i just thought i would try to interpret this dream. when i discovered the room full of stringed instruments, i felt a rush of safety and security. and i stayed there until i woke up. i thought id share it cause it is a new style and new source of inspiration for me.
anyway i just thought i would try to interpret this dream. when i discovered the room full of stringed instruments, i felt a rush of safety and security. and i stayed there until i woke up. i thought id share it cause it is a new style and new source of inspiration for me.
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