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Literature Text
My Husband came back from the dead and tried to gnaw through my skull. He only loves me for my brains.
Literature
primary rule
refire old synapses;
i am breathing dye
and sleeting on the skin,
brash fire stabs
every time i witness
your grin.
mix me
again.
tell me
like swearing to
certain formations of stars
that these scars are purposed
and their purple
is royal.
anoint me
so that when my ankles
sink deep in admiring,
my lungs are filled
with your oil
and dogma.
make me a comma
in your discoursing veins.
i have been one
in a million full stops
and would prefer
if you paused
for me.
but if my shoulder blades
critically fail you—
if my resolve
is dust—
promise me
you'll always be fire,
always be a constellation
that no mar
can touch.
Literature
Fall
It was early Autumn when it happened, and deceptively sunny. The sky was bright and clear, but the touches of copper and gold upon the trees betrayed the true season. My grandmother, sixteen years old at the time, stood shivering by her sister's grave. A chill seeped into her bones, settling deep inside her chest. Her heart told her something was wrong, and it had nothing at all to do with the weather. In the ground beneath her feet she could feel something stirring; rousing, maybe. It was the day the Earth spat back out those who had done it so much harm. It was the beginning of the Happening, and the humans that got back up from their fall
Literature
Allaying Alideya (1)
If they come for you, you're dead.
Dad used to bury that warning into our heads, let it rot and stagnate until we knew with every bit of us that we should be scared of the Fosters. And I was terrified. Cal would attempt to make dad stop mid-story and it'd always end in laughter. They didn't think I would catch them, but I saw the wary glances and the look in their eyes after the smiles had faded. The Fosters would come for me on my thirteenth birthday and there wasn't anything they could do to stop it.
Four years' work in the Factory, mandatory once you hit thirteen, something about preparing us for our future. Some of us learned that lesso
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There is a ironic, fun, and macabre humor to this little story.