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Literature Text
I cut my hand
But it does not hurt
Like the window pane
Like the window pain
It bleeds out soft
But the colour burns
As the sunset ways away
I am departed-
-Meaningless
All this ruby stain
All this ruby lane
Run parallel
But come amiss
'Neath the portal's gaping face
For which I see
In looking glass
Capillaries
Broke open free
The delta flows
Spectacle pass
But I feel no burdening
The dam is made
And shed its sides
Clear for the way
Clear for today
Now all is last
As I abide
A watcher for the coming rain
But it does not hurt
Like the window pane
Like the window pain
It bleeds out soft
But the colour burns
As the sunset ways away
I am departed-
-Meaningless
All this ruby stain
All this ruby lane
Run parallel
But come amiss
'Neath the portal's gaping face
For which I see
In looking glass
Capillaries
Broke open free
The delta flows
Spectacle pass
But I feel no burdening
The dam is made
And shed its sides
Clear for the way
Clear for today
Now all is last
As I abide
A watcher for the coming rain
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Literature
AI TG Writing Experiment 11 - The Discovery 8
---- Beth awoke in a strange room. It was dark, and she couldn't see much. She felt groggy and disoriented. Her entire body was aching, and her leg was on fire. She tried to sit up, but her body refused to cooperate. "Don't try to move. You're injured," a voice said. Beth looked up and saw Dr. Tariq sitting nearby, her face illuminated by the light of a candle. "Dr. Tariq? What happened? Where are we?" "We're in the village. We made it. You're safe. Dr. Campbell collapsed as well, but she is fine. You, on the other hand, need rest," Dr. Tariq explained. "My leg hurts bad," Beth said, grimacing. "That's because you cut it on some rocks when you fell. Luckily, the chief's wife is a skilled healer, and she patched you up," Dr. Tariq said. Beth frowned. "How long have I been out?" "Two days," Dr. Tariq answered. "Two days?!?!?" "Your body needed the rest. You had hypothermia, and your injuries were severe," Dr. Tariq explained. "Now, try to sleep some more. The chief will come
Literature
Asleep in a Scrapyard
My bedroom is filled to the ceiling With the earth’s dead weight With the harvest of full lives Frozen in pose - Their colors grow dull Behind plastic frames Giving the last of their light To this scrapyard of reveries - Gone are the rushing moments Of gilded eyesight, When precious lumber and stone Were lined perfectly in place - Here in their hollow space A gnawing hunger remains Seeking to swallow whole The earth’s true and bold colors
Literature
La fin du jour
6:00, le réveil sonne. Une main pâle le fait mollement taire. Dans son lit, Eliott est allongé, les yeux rivés sur le plafond de sa chambre, résigné. Il ne semble pas avoir fermé l’œil de la nuit. L'adolescent se redresse comme un robot, sans manifester l'ombre d'une émotion. Il se lève parce qu'il le doit mais si ça ne tenait qu'à lui, Eliott demeurerait immobile à laisser son esprit s'abandonner au vide. Lorsque le gamin se pose sur ses deux jambes, sa tête lui tourne et il a envie de vomir. Ses heures de sommeil lui manque mais seule cette vision qui est la sienne maintient son attention. Autour de lui, il voit le monde se tordre et se distordre, lui donnant l'illusion qu'il n'est pas réel et que rien n'est vrai. La réalité cache des secrets qui, selon le gamin, ne se révèlent qu'à ceux qui ne se laisse pas berner par le voile du concret. Comme la machine qu'il s'efforce d'être, Eliott s'habille. Le jeune homme n'a jamais accordé grande importance à son style vestimentaire mais
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Originally written on September 8, 2014.
Tried to put something else up but I got a flaw, so...yeah...
Tried to put something else up but I got a flaw, so...yeah...
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Well done.