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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
November 30, 2015
n.i. by Khaimin is a soft and steady exploration of overcoming fears and has a heart-warming ending.
Featured by LiliWrites
Literature Text
- in the mornings i wake
like faded candlelight -
soft and unsure, blown by the wind
from the open window because
the heat resides within the bedframe and the
monochrome moments.
in the mornings i pray for lights-out
and an empty sink to share
my dreams with before
morning becomes day
and day becomes lonely in the flash
of the sunlight seeping
'round the blackout curtains.
some days i want to sleep forever
and only wake when
everyone is comatose within
their dreams; i want to be the ghost
that causes chills in the night
so i can say i made others
feel something
(because i feel so much i've gone
half-numb).
some days i wish i could
speak ten languages -
maybe then i could stop the st
stutter in my breast
and the hitching in my heart
at the thought of
everything --
maybe learning ten tongues
would let me learn to whisper in the night
about how my dreams haunt me
and i, them - i am
my own bogeyman
and i think i've missed a breath
or three trying to figure out what
it means.
when night calls
i find myself choking past the
sorrow. i've learned it's hard
to stop the shudders when
you don't know why they're there -
and some nights the door opens,
and i've learned feigning sleep can't trick
the wise
( i get pulled into arms
and they either don't feel the trickling tension
or they just don't care;
and it's hard to learn that
loving people is okay
when it's always hurt like
hell, but --
once upon a time i would have yelled
and now i rest my head on steady
shoulders and speak
what needs spoken
and i guess it's a little bit okay ).
and in the mornings i wake like a dawning
sun and break silence with shuffles -
i will brave the dark with
the light i'm learning to love
and i will live
for these forevers.
Literature
The Guide
For a minute there I thought I
was at the wrong house. Then you tried
to fetch your toast with a fork, while
it was plugged in. Now the tile
floor is scuffed up and you're all fried.
Makes my job easy. Oh don't try
to plead or beg. This is your time
to follow me, no need to lie
for a minute
or an hour. Whichever kind
of bargain you have isn't my
problem. My job is to file
your soul for future trial.
Though, I guess, I'll let you cry
for a minute.
Literature
truth in the lens
Your 35mm camera
is like a kid’s scrawl on a cement wall: we were here.
Passion unabridged,
documentation for the sake of documentation
as we lose track of what we were supposed to be doing
and just exist.
You’re as raw as a light scratch at three in the morning,
as lost as a Polaroid in that pocket in your suitcase
that you always forget is there.
(You’re not really lost at all.)
Literature
the warrior supplicates
burn
the rest
of me
but spare
my
skull.
cake it
with jewels.
soak it
in dyes,
pour water from it
onto withered greens.
glue candles to the
inside with their own wax,
make it a bowl
for things
too easily
lost.
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hello again
i'm trying to be here, i promise. it's just a little hard
i'm trying to be here, i promise. it's just a little hard
© 2015 - 2024 Khaimin
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How are you please contact me back with
my ID sophielarry2@hotmail.com
my ID sophielarry2@hotmail.com