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Literature Text
She is human
Breathing
Existing
Those words
They sting
A thousand little needles
Piercing
Releasing like a breath
Of winter air.
She is human
Breathing
Existing
Those eyes
They see
A hundred pale lies
Believing
Trusting in the faithless
Even at dusk.
She is human
Breathing
Existing
Those fingers
They feel
A million sleepless nights
Falling
Reading white blank walls
Hoping for sleep.
Breathing
Existing
Those words
They sting
A thousand little needles
Piercing
Releasing like a breath
Of winter air.
She is human
Breathing
Existing
Those eyes
They see
A hundred pale lies
Believing
Trusting in the faithless
Even at dusk.
She is human
Breathing
Existing
Those fingers
They feel
A million sleepless nights
Falling
Reading white blank walls
Hoping for sleep.
Literature
Rombos
por Romy Lara
El aire gélido se coló en la habitación y alborotó los papeles minuciosamente acomodados en el escritorio. Tronándose los nudillos de la mano izquierda, Julio se incorporó y cerró la ventana de un golpe. Afuera el cielo se caía pedazo por pedazo. Reacomodó el desorden que se había hecho en su mesa de trabajo, colocando cada documento en su lugar: los de etiqueta amarilla en la carpeta amarilla, los marcados con verde en la papeleta verde y así consecutivamente con cuatro colores más.
Procedió a sacar un cuaderno de portadas negras de su
Literature
notesleep
playing my emphases like harp strings
your voice smokes thru the oaken bramble
pour a carbonated apology, a sun-stained
mile marked envelope, two ill-fitted birds,
hands small holes right before a rush of river
what it feels like being swallowed from the outside
crushing rings into truth serum, pretend
to be out of tune with that deception
I have been unable to parse my own persona
a pink cotton voice I remember thru the phone
I remember because it formed me into a granary
one crop after another of patriarchal idioms
whisper my secrets so softly into a glint of red hair
a saucer-eyed lace pattern cut into pine paper
I practice radical self lo
Literature
-
i fade with
stilted shots, the audience
waits for me. choking. oh god
how could this happen
with my throat
twisted up
and my head bound tight
in ropes i'm not sure i want to
untie? snap my brittle
wrists. i'm losing again,
numbers scaling down to a
place i should not be.
a parasite is swallowing
my energy. tests are negative.
i breathe.
--
just as i drift
into
pale, fading sleep,
his fingernails
claw through
the
material of
my skull.
i don't know who he is but i remember
the wooden floor beneath me
the length of my hair
catching under my back
as i struggle
and
how it felt when he
left me on the floor,
limp
tear stre
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Kolkolkol. I can't do this style.
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Comments7
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interesting style. What is it called? 
I would love to learn this myself. 
we must discuss writing technquies sometime message me anytime!! Amazing poem i love how it flows.
I would love to learn this myself. we must discuss writing technquies sometime message me anytime!! Amazing poem i love how it flows.