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Literature Text
i wanna be a high class hippie
with pot brownies and joint-stashed lips.
we can run around the dingy town
painting our faces rainbow and
letting our hair grow out long
with flower crowns and weeded braids.
i want to be carefree and still look good.
in our own eyes we’ll be the only ones
to look at.
we’ll be cool without even trying.
we’ll be barefoot in grassy places
where patches of dirt will cool our toes
in the freckling sunlight.
i want to have rosy cheeks and toothy
smiles that i send your way
and you send back ocean-eyed grins
with red popsicle lips.
i just wanna hold your hand.
i wanna sleep on a mattress with you
under the moon.
i want to play twangy guitars under the stars
and listen to you hum the tune.
i want to wear old faded clothing and
oversized T shirts
in bright and ridiculous colors.
i want all the days to blend into one
while never leaving the company of friends.
i want dirt under my pink oval fingernails
and no money in my holy pockets.
i want to live everyday innocently
and make love like it’s illegal.
with pot brownies and joint-stashed lips.
we can run around the dingy town
painting our faces rainbow and
letting our hair grow out long
with flower crowns and weeded braids.
i want to be carefree and still look good.
in our own eyes we’ll be the only ones
to look at.
we’ll be cool without even trying.
we’ll be barefoot in grassy places
where patches of dirt will cool our toes
in the freckling sunlight.
i want to have rosy cheeks and toothy
smiles that i send your way
and you send back ocean-eyed grins
with red popsicle lips.
i just wanna hold your hand.
i wanna sleep on a mattress with you
under the moon.
i want to play twangy guitars under the stars
and listen to you hum the tune.
i want to wear old faded clothing and
oversized T shirts
in bright and ridiculous colors.
i want all the days to blend into one
while never leaving the company of friends.
i want dirt under my pink oval fingernails
and no money in my holy pockets.
i want to live everyday innocently
and make love like it’s illegal.
Literature
opposite's day - collab.
i. today i ignored the dismal beating
in my chest [it held me closer than
you ever did] and chased after you
like a lopsided puppy,
watching your skylit legs sink into
shin-deep puddles with indefinable
bottoms. i looked as you left me
miles behind as i shouted
nonsensical wishes and
honeycombed thoughts to you.
[let's drop anchor and stop
this off-course ship with
a handful of windswept lies.]
ii. your eyes are like my mirror -
reflective, deflective, and unforgiving.
[the only way you'll speak to me
is without words.]
one of these days i will write
'ugly ugly ugly' on my forehead
so that on opposite's day,
those baby blu
Literature
fair grading.
rain rain you went away
come back and flush me down the drain.
i sat in the middle of the road and my mind's in a drought
i've got the carcasses of words baking in harsh artificial light within me.
[i slur my words, but don't think it's because i've been drinking
i just don't know how to bring myself to say anything to you.]
-
we're walking down the street, puddles lit by street lights.
there are rainbows in the cement cracks, and your words are sparkling with magic.
'this is where dreams live,' you tell me.
'this is where dreams live.'
[if this is a dream, then i must be snow white, and not even your kiss can wake me up.]
-
twin
Literature
definitely, maybe collab.
i. you are a mish-mash
of never-ending smiles and toxic beauty.
you're a tangle of scattered thoughts
and makeshift perfection; you make
the seven wonders of the world jealous.
"maybe someday arrows
will guide us through the milky way, and we'll use
the stars as stepping stones."
"maybe we'll play hopscotch in the sky,
surrounded by little fragments of dreams
that dancers forgot to remember."
ii. you're the displacement in a
chemical reaction; you're the magnesium,
and i'm mercury (only liquid at room
temperature,
too close to the sun for life to
exist,
and the messenger they loved to
shoot).
you are a butterfly's wings
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lol, this is an oldie piece i forgot about. i wanted to upload it simply so i wouldn't forget it again. i like to keep track of my little imaginings. :3
and yes, my pockets are holy, not full of holes.
i don't do typos. -cough-
xD
and yes, my pockets are holy, not full of holes.
i don't do typos. -cough-
xD
© 2009 - 2024 Zaratops
Comments28
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i love that last line