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Literature Text
A policeman comes into the gents while I'm pissing. He says, "Alright?" Before I've seen him, I say, "Alright, bud?"
I correct myself, "Alright, officer?" No policeman is my friend.
I correct myself, "Alright, officer?" No policeman is my friend.
Literature
compulsive liar.
once i asked you your favourite
colour, and you said, "the brown
of your eyes," so i put in one green
contact and told everyone that i
came out of the womb as a factory
defect, half-priced, damaged goods.
-
sometimes i am from canada and
sometimes i am from england and
sometimes i am from spain.
i've carefully tempered my accents
and plotted out my stories with
yellow and purple coloured pencils
on index cards. my origin changes
like the seasons.
"why do you lie to everyone?" you
ask.
"why not?" i reply.
-
i wear nametags that read "alicia"
and "liana" and "samantha," because
i want to know how it feels to be
someon
Literature
No poetry
No poetry was written,
No fairytales were read.
As if it was forbidden,
By the monsters in her head.
And all they thought was silly,
Was quickly thrown away.
By a girl who had to grow up,
By a girl who couldn't play.
All her dreams and fantasies,
All her fears and hopes.
Thrown in a bag of garbage,
Balloons and skipping ropes.
The teddybears and puzzles,
All had to retreat.
For new puzzles in her head,
She never would complete.
No poetry was written,
No fairytales were told.
Her eyes spoke of a sad tale,
Her hands were always cold.
She thought of no white horses,
For she was no princess.
Her life was about papers,
Literature
Before I Can Become a Writer
Develop insomnia. Develop
problems with substance abuse,
nothing serious, but enough
that I can say “write drunk,
edit sober” and mean it.
Drink tea. Write about drinking
tea. Take up smoking, ignore
the thoughts about it being
a slower suicide. Write about
suicide. Don’t mean it.
Write about sunsets and
ink veins. Mean it.
Fall in love with someone
who will never love me back.
Lament. Write a million
crappy poems and two good
ones. Never show him.
Move on. Write a few more
bad poems. Fall in love with
someone perfect. Screw it up.
Fall in love with someone awful.
Call him perfect. Screw it up.
Cry. Cry for the inevitab
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Another little thought from the pub.
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