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Literature Text
きみが幸運だ。
自身心を食べた;
それは胃の内部により良い仕事する。
賢い子共たちが寺院を行くしない。
代わりに、彼らはすべてを介して自分の手をねじる、
しかし、それは必然のうちだけだ;
それは
自分自身の地図
を覚えるのするために。
または
ミラーの上に立つために
がらくたは靴の底部にある場合でも。
(物事の自然な順序。)
--
きみは神様じゃない—
まだない、もうない。
「覚えているか?
時間は時があった
なんでもかんでもは神様だった。」
まだない、もうない。
--
「今度は何台?
何をすべきか?」
自身に話せ、宇宙船に話せ、
新しい軟骨の下に隠れる古い骨に話せ。
金のために強膜を検索、
—盲目行きない。
(きみは神様じゃない、
きみははるかに貴重
なことよりも。)
--
アイデアの端にバランスをとる
人間の生命の価格、
クレヨンのボックスの価格。
内面の神聖さ;
「…祝福は紙の雪片、
祝福はアルコール、
祝福は重い頭。」
まだない、もうない。
--
暗闇の中で
寸法ががない。
唯一の大きな空虚;
は広くて暖かい。
海で星(星で海)
の深さに手を差し出す、
でも、重力または親密さ
を恐れない。
横たわる、お肌を焼く、
あなたの体を持つ大きく開いて眠る。
•
•
Eng.
you're lucky.
you ate your own heart;
it works better in your stomach.
--
smart children don't go to temple.
instead, they twist their hands through everything,
though it is only out of necessity;
it is
in order to memorize
the maps of themselves.
or
in order to stand on top of mirrors
even if there's shit on the bottoms of their shoes.
(it's the natural order of things.)
--
you're not god—
not yet, not anymore.
"do you remember?
there was once a time
where everything was god."
not yet, not anymore.
--
"now what?
what do i do?"
speak to yourself, speak to the spaceships,
speak to the old bones long hidden under new cartilage.
search for gold in the whites of your eyes.
—don't go blind.
(you're not god,
you're something much more important
than that.)
--
balance at the end of an idea
the price of a human life,
the price of a box of crayons.
the sacredness of insides;
"…and blessed be the paper snowflakes,
and blessed be the alcohol,
and blessed be the heavy heads."
not yet, not anymore.
--
in the dark
there are no dimensions
only the big emptiness;
wide and warm.
reach into the depths of
the stars in the sea
(the sea in the stars),
but do not fear it's gravity
or it's closeness.
lie down, burn your skin,
sleep with your body wide open.
自身心を食べた;
それは胃の内部により良い仕事する。
賢い子共たちが寺院を行くしない。
代わりに、彼らはすべてを介して自分の手をねじる、
しかし、それは必然のうちだけだ;
それは
自分自身の地図
を覚えるのするために。
または
ミラーの上に立つために
がらくたは靴の底部にある場合でも。
(物事の自然な順序。)
--
きみは神様じゃない—
まだない、もうない。
「覚えているか?
時間は時があった
なんでもかんでもは神様だった。」
まだない、もうない。
--
「今度は何台?
何をすべきか?」
自身に話せ、宇宙船に話せ、
新しい軟骨の下に隠れる古い骨に話せ。
金のために強膜を検索、
—盲目行きない。
(きみは神様じゃない、
きみははるかに貴重
なことよりも。)
--
アイデアの端にバランスをとる
人間の生命の価格、
クレヨンのボックスの価格。
内面の神聖さ;
「…祝福は紙の雪片、
祝福はアルコール、
祝福は重い頭。」
まだない、もうない。
--
暗闇の中で
寸法ががない。
唯一の大きな空虚;
は広くて暖かい。
海で星(星で海)
の深さに手を差し出す、
でも、重力または親密さ
を恐れない。
横たわる、お肌を焼く、
あなたの体を持つ大きく開いて眠る。
•
•
Eng.
you're lucky.
you ate your own heart;
it works better in your stomach.
--
smart children don't go to temple.
instead, they twist their hands through everything,
though it is only out of necessity;
it is
in order to memorize
the maps of themselves.
or
in order to stand on top of mirrors
even if there's shit on the bottoms of their shoes.
(it's the natural order of things.)
--
you're not god—
not yet, not anymore.
"do you remember?
there was once a time
where everything was god."
not yet, not anymore.
--
"now what?
what do i do?"
speak to yourself, speak to the spaceships,
speak to the old bones long hidden under new cartilage.
search for gold in the whites of your eyes.
—don't go blind.
(you're not god,
you're something much more important
than that.)
--
balance at the end of an idea
the price of a human life,
the price of a box of crayons.
the sacredness of insides;
"…and blessed be the paper snowflakes,
and blessed be the alcohol,
and blessed be the heavy heads."
not yet, not anymore.
--
in the dark
there are no dimensions
only the big emptiness;
wide and warm.
reach into the depths of
the stars in the sea
(the sea in the stars),
but do not fear it's gravity
or it's closeness.
lie down, burn your skin,
sleep with your body wide open.
Literature
Inside
I watched my best friend die.
It wasn't in a hospital and it wasn't an accident on some road somewhere. There's a saying, and I guess it's also… funny… how you never know what's going on behind closed doors.
I guess you're probably thinking of suicide - overdose, hanging by the rope, or (god forbid) the knife, but... it's not that.
Because it's one thing to die and it's another to die. I believe you can exist without properly living.
What is a life? We are born into this world with no say on the matter, and yet the majority of us take for granted that tomorrow we will wake up to another morning, another routine, another day in
Literature
Grandfather
I recall,
He was white.
But, not the
--"controversial at political dinner parties" and "this racist comment will cost him the election kind"--
Stark, snowy, riveting white.
His hair was always victim to the static that came from
resting against
the mountain of pillows that topped off his hospital bed.
He always lay there,
a beacon in the middle of the dark, mudd brown, living room.
I suppose it was hell to live the last of his life there,
but at six, I thought he was God,
living on a cloud that was Heaven.
I remember his warm hands, their blue lines, and their wrinkles,
the way his smile never met his eyes--
and his eyes said he
Literature
One, two, three
My boyfriend watched, open mouthed
as I unscrewed the lid of your urn,
and ran my fingers through your ashes.
Your depression, your soul dust.
I felt an ocean rolling under my ribs
and an urge to cradle your urn,
rock you back and forth
like you did for me when I was young.
-
At the funeral, my uncle announced
that you hated religion.
But he left out the part
where you did believe in a God,
just that he was always punishing you.
-
“There was nothing you could have done”
said the other uncle.
I think of all those spent wishes,
the birthday candles extinguished for gifts,
the meteor showers I wasted on love,
the prayers offered from
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now read aloud here [link]
『自分の血で安心して』
oh hey look i wrote a letter to my blood.
ところで;等しいことはfuckedだ。私たちは障害である。
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