l
literature

lege et lacrima

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By soma   |   Watch
2 2 170 (1 Today)
Published: October 10, 2005
i miss not much
like an archaeologist
with precise and patient tools
i torture the sediment of years
    pick and brush and pluck
    grain by shaking grain
to expose what should remain hidden
i irrigate long healed cuts and burns
with corrosive elixirs
i turn pale scars
into weeping wounds
mended bones are broken, set, broken
i return again and again to the
sites of my torture
hoping that
    some chance executioner
    some heedless tormentor
will condescend to reenact
the damage, so that i can
thank them
and go home
to rub salt in my flesh
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© 2005 - 2019 soma
Really, I'm more amused and annoyed; these are bad habits, merely.
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Seasons of Violet.
We called her Violet, and she was. We knew her when she was young and pale, during Fall And when we'd climb old trees, their brittle branches Like welcoming arms Would snap in two And we'd cascade to the earthy ground Carpeted with golden and red and orange And as we fell, Secretly, she'd wish with all the goodness in her heart That she were a leaf as well That like a leaf, she could be swept away to some distant place In arms that would not break In arms that belonged to people who truly loved her. We called her Violet, and she was. And with the changing of the seasons, Winter had taken away her smile and replaced it with t
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In a world where so many die The only thing you can do is try All 23 will be against you, but they feel that way too The crowd can help in deciding your fate If you are either valuable or dead weight Your mentor will train you Unless it's Haymitch, then they'll say "Forget you" You shall be treated like king or queen Your life will feel serene Until the final day comes Then the dread will pound like drums As you stand on your podium You hope you will blossom Because death is soon And the audience will watch as if it is a cartoon You will run for your life With the wildlife Some will make it and some will perish Chances are in anguish Whe
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listen: fall makes me think of leaving and of apple cider, though i never liked apple cider. but i liked the idea of it. listen: two years ago i met a boy as fragile as dead leaves who called me his little spring girl. (i'd always liked autumn the best.) he kissed the two soft dimples on the small of my back and told me helikedme helovedme hewantedme. and oh, by the way, "everything good must come to an end." listen: on our one year anniversary we picked out two pumpkins and i drew elephants on them for us to carve. he cut his out so aggressively that it lost its shape. lopped off tusks and broken trunks became just a large, jagged ho
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Comments (2)
AlienDonkey's avatar
'will condescend to reenact'... I love that line.

As brilliant as ever. Tortured, yet soulful.
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soma's avatar
soma|Professional General Artist
Tortured, yes, sometimes, but usually by my self. I can see the humor in it most times, but occasionally I slip.
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