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Literature Text
drizzled succulent
memories
wander childhood
pastry of new realities
tasted
sticky fingers
the learning of
experiential consuming
honey crusted
excalamations circle
in the ringed cone
progress
elevation of comprehension
development
of likes
cavites
dislikes
glucose levels
chomp existence
caloric wonders
travel vast synapsis in
reformation
of the forumula
strained vegetables
left now behind
in deep cacao based
wonderlands
artistry in confection
inspires seratonin elevation
buds flower
the mind seed
through tongue
to a fair first
elemental mating
of soul
to the power
of hunger driven
creativity
memories
wander childhood
pastry of new realities
tasted
sticky fingers
the learning of
experiential consuming
honey crusted
excalamations circle
in the ringed cone
progress
elevation of comprehension
development
of likes
cavites
dislikes
glucose levels
chomp existence
caloric wonders
travel vast synapsis in
reformation
of the forumula
strained vegetables
left now behind
in deep cacao based
wonderlands
artistry in confection
inspires seratonin elevation
buds flower
the mind seed
through tongue
to a fair first
elemental mating
of soul
to the power
of hunger driven
creativity
Literature
Mother
Mother:
The last time that I saw you, I left with bitter words
I never knew how much the things, I said to you would hurt.
And I never wanted to see you; so I tried to shut you out
But a Mother is the one thing that I cannot live without...
I've been to the doctor's room
He tells me I will see you soon
I'm prayin' in the lobby-
Hopin' that you'll be okay...
I never knew that things would be this way...
The first memory I have, is when you used to hold my hand
You taught me how to be a man but I threw it in your face
Still you forgave me and still you believed
But I took your faith and broke it up, like golden autumn leaves...
wh
Literature
Profane
Flames running over my body,
burning vividly my skin.
Your devilish hands and tongue
covering my whole being with sin.
In vain, I attempt some resistance...
How can your touch be so profane?
I surrender to your treacheries, and
like a prayer, repeat your name.
There's no longer any purity in me,
and corruption becomes my elation,
Still, every time we're close like this
is when I really believe in salvation.
Literature
(nothing)
Sitting on this bus,
I know that I am distinctly
separate.
I am the absence of this bus,
and the other passengers
as well.
There is some sort
of truth to this;
some sort of credence
that I can't
place my hands on.
(I am not the paper, only the folds
made by my fingers.
I am not the blankets,
only the indent left behind.
I am not the rain,
only the dry spots
marking the pavement.)
Even when I'm standing still,
I am not the air.
(I can only hold it in.)
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Was just wondering if our first taste of solid food in childhood is our first contact with human creativity that we connect with on a elemental, molecular level without realizing it.
© 2012 - 2024 enigmaticsmile
Comments8
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Fascinating concept.