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Literature Text
by the light of the wild moon
the crazies flail without a beat
on burning city streets
homeless is not a number
it's a man who's not alive, but twitching
spirit is just an itch inside
and not an inspiration
who would want to breathe
when the only air is flames of cars and buildings
the crazies flail without a beat
on burning city streets
homeless is not a number
it's a man who's not alive, but twitching
spirit is just an itch inside
and not an inspiration
who would want to breathe
when the only air is flames of cars and buildings
Literature
The Ballerina
She watches from backstage as her partner performs his variation. The stage lights seem to get brighter, and the space in the wings seem to close in. She can feel her heart beating faster. Her partner’s short solo seems to last an eternity. She flexes and points her feet as she waits. Finally the music stops. She closes her eyes. She can hear thunderous applause, but it sounds distant, like it’s coming from another world. She centers herself, preparing for the most important two minutes of her life: her first solo as prima ballerina. The applause seems to go on forever. She fears that she will always be overshadowed by her talent
Literature
Relive
and you and i relive our joy every night without much thought about why we do it we share the details of our secret loves with one another rekindling the fire that sparked it all the glimmers the sparkle the glamour of that first interest leaves you and i hungry and i believe you and i are growing closer by these addictions and vices we feed at 3:15 am this dream exchange is going to crash one day because the money we stake on this dream talk is quite a big gamble and we, the poor and sensitive, are running out of free passes yes one day either we will consume our dreams or they will consume us.
Literature
Rombos
por Romy Lara
El aire gélido se coló en la habitación y alborotó los papeles minuciosamente acomodados en el escritorio. Tronándose los nudillos de la mano izquierda, Julio se incorporó y cerró la ventana de un golpe. Afuera el cielo se caía pedazo por pedazo. Reacomodó el desorden que se había hecho en su mesa de trabajo, colocando cada documento en su lugar: los de etiqueta amarilla en la carpeta amarilla, los marcados con verde en la papeleta verde y así consecutivamente con cuatro colores más.
Procedió a sacar un cuaderno de portadas negras de su
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Inspired by 'Dance' [link] by Ron Ray 
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Comments21
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Whoa. That brings shit back, man.