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literature

the fall of Icarus

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By psyence-a-gogo   |   Watch
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Published: June 18, 2009
Icarus
when you hit the water
nobody noticed
perhaps a sheep
flicked an ear
or a bird
took flight
as you floundered
and swallowed water
by the lungful
i walked by
didn’t see.
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c
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
a
absences
but this isn't just distance as in space, not just distance as in whispers of, "i can't believe how far you are from me, i miss you" - this isn't just distance in the way that roads seem to spill over hilltops for years, stretching like skin across knuckles but never ending,   no. this is the kind of distance that isn't seen but instead felt, that isn't marked by miles or gas money and can't be pinned in two spots on a map with red thumbtacks: this is not hearing from you for days and knowing you haven't noticed. this is wanting to have you beside me and knowing you're just fine   alone. this is the kind of dist
D
Dream On
A dream can be a passing thought; a passionate ambition. A dream can be a battle fought; a superficial mission. A dream can be a driving force; a forgiving comfort. A dream can be a thriving source; a deceitful consort. A dream can thrill you; drive you or kill you. Beware of this, dreamers— and Dream On.
© 2009 - 2019 psyence-a-gogo
based on Breughel's Landscape with the Fall of Icarus - [link]
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c
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
a
absences
but this isn't just distance as in space, not just distance as in whispers of, "i can't believe how far you are from me, i miss you" - this isn't just distance in the way that roads seem to spill over hilltops for years, stretching like skin across knuckles but never ending,   no. this is the kind of distance that isn't seen but instead felt, that isn't marked by miles or gas money and can't be pinned in two spots on a map with red thumbtacks: this is not hearing from you for days and knowing you haven't noticed. this is wanting to have you beside me and knowing you're just fine   alone. this is the kind of dist
D
Dream On
A dream can be a passing thought; a passionate ambition. A dream can be a battle fought; a superficial mission. A dream can be a driving force; a forgiving comfort. A dream can be a thriving source; a deceitful consort. A dream can thrill you; drive you or kill you. Beware of this, dreamers— and Dream On.
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