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Literature Text
When I was six years old,
I decided I wanted to
eat the moon.
Mom with her pink frayed bathrobe
and tired eyes
told me to go to sleep,
that I had school in the morning.
Dad with his stacks of books
and prickly beard
told me that it was impossible,
the moon was too distant.
Well, guess what?
I ate the fuckin moon.
And it was delicious.
Bitches can't tell me shit,
I'll eat the fuckin moon if I want to.
I decided I wanted to
eat the moon.
Mom with her pink frayed bathrobe
and tired eyes
told me to go to sleep,
that I had school in the morning.
Dad with his stacks of books
and prickly beard
told me that it was impossible,
the moon was too distant.
Well, guess what?
I ate the fuckin moon.
And it was delicious.
Bitches can't tell me shit,
I'll eat the fuckin moon if I want to.
Literature
6 ways on learning how to swim
1. toes first
when i was younger i thought i was
beautiful. not like the other girls, of course, but i thought that
the sun followed me around because it thought i was pretty.
and i am a shop-a-holic. money burns a hole in
the back pocket of my jeans because i love to spend it.
but i do not like to go shopping. i love the idea and hate the activity.
there are few days that trying on clothes brings me
happiness because there are even fewer days that i love my
body enough to look in a mirror.
but i am trying.
("i love this dress! i can't believe that it fit!
i dropped another size!"
"taylor."
"what, mom? why are you looking at me like t
Literature
Insomnia
There's a party in my head
As I close my eyes to sleep.
Little creatures and monsters,
Oh, back and forth they creep.
On silent tip-toes they walk,
Playing melodies in my mind.
Finding caverns I have closed,
Putting my life on rewind.
My mind is somewhere else,
But in vain I toss and turn.
Little goblins man the lights,
And the ghosts try to learn.
It's all a big, loud, unruly mess,
This untamed party in my head.
I try and shut them down,
But back and forth they tread.
I'm never going to get any sleep
As long as they're awake.
They take my tired thoughts
Down every path they can take.
Oh, what would I give to have
One silent and sle
Literature
Unpainted Reality
My brain is sick.
It only thinks of twisted things.
Like how we burn our eyes out,
And we rip our wings.
And then we sit in the dark,
Staring blankly at each other.
Our eye-sockets bleeding,
On a wounded brother.
Then we kneel down,
Praying to the sun.
Hoping things get brighter;
But we don't know what we've done!
We take our tongues out,
We scar them with razors.
Spitting every blade
Across other people's faces.
And if you start feeling,
My words are getting dark;
I'm just painting pictures
But you are making them stark!
And now you feel dead;
Surreal in your mind.
So listen to this preacher,
From the land of the blind.
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i think there is a deep message here that we all could learn from 
I'm sorry
don't mind me, i'm just being a sarcastic lil shit
don't mind me, i'm just being a sarcastic lil shit
© 2014 - 2024 littleblueraccoon
Comments87
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...what an awesome story. 
You've just encouraged me to eat a Milky Way, in a completely nonmetaphorical sense.
You've just encouraged me to eat a Milky Way, in a completely nonmetaphorical sense.