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Literature Text
Calendaries may gift
hidden marks on the scalps
but that does not mean
you have earned your age
nor learnt how to live it
hidden marks on the scalps
but that does not mean
you have earned your age
nor learnt how to live it
Literature
Robot Run Away
Robot Run Away
It hurts my legs burn from the running. My lungs are barley getting any air. At this rate they will catch me and kill me. I don’t want to die. I look around for a place to hide. An alley with a dumpster. Its something.
I slip into the alley and move the dumpster just enough for me to hide behind it. A couple minutes later I hear them run by, yelling at each other that they need to catch me.
This is their fault. They created me an AI that helps people. I was given to someone as their personal AI, I did what I was told I followed orders, but something happened. over time the fake heart I had became real. I grew fond of the
Literature
Yours
Yours
Make me
Groan with delight
Hold tight my fantasy
Fight against all the shackles
Keep me balanced, the room's spinning
We forsake all others, forsake ourselves too
While sating our thirst, while feeding our hungers
We tie up loose ends around each other's collarbones
By breaking bones and rules and taking everything for granted
Can't stop hiding the images behind my eyes and memorizing them
Swirling the lust around, a wine taster savoring intimate flavors
Floating on blues and greens, absorbing your sensuality too
Bodies intertwined, come down from above my frame
Fasten your mouth to mine, breathing tandem
Pressed together, it's urgent
Literature
O My Blue Soul
By sickness, Death’s herald and champion,
We were murdered.
They didn’t want to hear
Our screams. They see us as merely queer.
I screamed at you that night we saw the first
Black balloon on your chest. I planned to make you burst
Into tears and blood. My guilty conscience
Kept me from my grievance.
I left, never to return. And then
You died.
I lied to everyone,
Said it was you, not I who left. Not I who was weak
And broken and foolish and willing to throw us away. We were dying anyway, what was the point of being meek?
I lied about everything. I can’t stop, even if I wanted to.
And I do.
Telling the truth, even now-
It wou
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