A Literation
Submit your poetry, prose, and art to this fledgling literary magazine run by your favorites of the Tumblr Writing Community.
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full circle means
having the ones you
disliked for no other
reason than they existed
tell you that you
above all others
deserve to be
happy.
and you
kinda
believe
them.
i refuse to be blank and
stable, there’s nothing wrong
with my moods or chemicals.
i just want to get high sometimes,
whenever the moment suits me.
when did you trade out your oxygen and
when did i get so mean or
when was the last time you loved me and
when did i decide to leave or
when was the last time you kissed me first and
when did i decide to leave?
in my house it’s winter full
of kerosene fires and haunted walks
fail safe on the panic room
safety fail on the beretta
great falls of character and
whistles in hollow nights.
hold on to everything,
Cassiopeia, keep it in mind,
i’m out of mine, let’s keep
rolling, hold on to this
sociopath.
i miss getting twisted up on mini thins,
methheads got banned from ephedrine,
what’s worse is that the herbals, they do nothing,
just make my head ache and i can’t find
my keys, so let’s just, let’s just, let’s just
get fucked up on dextro again.
it took her twelve weeks but
she finally cleared the clutter
out of my mind, enough to
realize it was as much your
fault as it was mine, to recognize
the apology lettering in the
jawbone and finger tendons,
and to be calm to the point
of distraction, with tenderness
upon a cheek felt like
sinew breaks and choir claps
where it is such mad dashing
to the finish, and i can recognize
the recognition in the text,
your fault and mine, but
only half worked on when it
could be completely gone.
the best place to drink
is in the sacristy in the church where i grew up
with an old friend and a deacon who’ve
laughed at my sardonic jokes about their
job and pasttimes, laughed and accepted the
fact that i don’t talk to god anymore,
drank more sacrificial wine than we’re supposed
to in hopes that we’d come to the answer,
and it’s there that i found unleavened bread
crackers make an okay cereal.
I’m going to create a wallpaper design where you can order your favorite books to be printed on the paper, complete with page numbers so you can read it on your wall, circle or highlight your favorite passages, and immediately introduce people to your favorite works of literature.
the only nickname
i ever had was
“that asshole
with the weird
music.”
hold on
we found lust ringing
through our bones
and waiting hardly
holding on while
you sit, lips pursed,
looking like you’re
waiting for me to
grab and lay one
right there, those
soft lips, the lips of
a perfectly exciting
and fantastic kiss just
waiting on you
to tell me it’s okay
to make out
with you.
lookin fo
summa dat
blow, muhfuck.
not really, but if i
was, i would be just
like all those other
terminally ill kids with
one final wish.
but forget that just
meeting someone
shit, my last wish
would be to
fuck Emma Watson.
these dying kids
have no imagination.
from The Trees The Trees by Heather Christle
hold me and tell
me everything isn’t
as bad as i make
it out to be
hold me and
whisper in my ears
about love and the
affections i can have
hold me and remind
me that i will get better
and so will the rest
of the world
hold me and hold
me and hold me and
hold me and
hold me.
funny when
the “kickass” poets
are the
least fun people.
