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Angela Rose

People always talk about being a perfect match
But nobody every talks about how abruptly matches burn out

beautiful eyes, beautiful smile
beautiful heart, beautiful mind
beautiful name, beautiful self

those things i need them the most
those things i need to own them
for myself
and only for me

i’ve never said i love you
i’ve always been saying that i hate you
all because i don’t understand
my heart, my feelings

i pray to god every night
banging on his door
begging him on my knees
“i want to be his friend”

i’ve never heard from him
yet you come to build me up
and then tear me up
just as fast as escape velocity

i kept calm
because i somehow know
that we’ll be fine
i’ll be fine

but then i heard from him
he said with his punch against my stomach
his tight grip around my neck, choking the air out of me

“no, young lady.
you shall suffer more.
i will give you someone
someone you’ve never expected
to step on your bleeding injury.”

do you know what i’ve been through?
do you know how it feels to be left behind without knowing the why?
do you know how it feels to see you pretending not to know me?
do you know how it feels to know that someone else has fallen for you?

do you know why on earth i keep on holding you?
embracing every memories that i have about us?
because life back then was simple
until you said your last goodbye.

sorry guys. i legit cried in front of my momma because of this.
Brent Kincaid

I looked into your eyes
And I saw our tomorrow.
I couldn’t think of yesterday,
Of lost dreams or sorrow.
I could barely let myself
Believe for that moment
That there can be an end
For loneliness and torment.

It all seemed a fine fantasy
In which time stands still;
When I left my lonely street
And stood with you on a hill.
There was no rain or sirens
Just two people in an embrace,
And I was for sure that I was
Lost in your wonderful face.

Something happened then
Many of my dreams came true.
And every one of those dreams
Seemed to be there in you
I never took a moment to say
To myself, "Go slow, take care!"
I just wanted to soak this in
And suddenly I didn’t care.

I wanted to let all my hopes
Take me over and control me.
Not caring that there was no
Fairy Godmother to bankroll me.
I was on my own, and lost
In a dream that was coming true.
There was me, myself and I
And nobody else but you.

This could have gone so wrong
And this would be a threnody,
A dirge, a sad song of me;
A nearly Shakespearian tragedy.
Instead I played it just right.
I knew a good thing when it showed.
It’s been you and I ever since.
It was The Love Train I rode.


And each morning as she slept
I'd take her a tray of poetry
A croissant of commas warmed from the inside out
An ounce of assonance
A cup of freshly squeezed couplets
A bowlful of rhymes
That inside she might find
Our promises of forever
The memories we crafted together:

I’d take her a teapot of
The little things we’d forget
In the busyness of daily life
I’d take her a knife to spread
across the toasts we’d host
To the moments we cherished most
To our victories and our regrets
And every morning as she slept
I’d place a kiss on her head
As I placed beside our bed
A tray of poetry,
The words she so carefully, cordially, candidly
Composed out of me.


People say- you are a stubborn feminist
Eventually yes I'm, because I died everytime when someone else had beaten my spirit.
People say- you are immature
Yes I am, because they were not enough mature to not to assail me everytime.
People say- keep your ego to yourself
Seriously, then why didn't you kept your lust to yourself only when I was on my bleeding and you were intruding me pain

Girl who got repeated suffocation pain. Still stood up
Mister J

Come with me
Take my hand
And take a leap
Into my arms
And drift with me
To uncertainty
To hell with this life
Which only shed your tears
And escape the worries

Just come here
And stay with me
As long as I'm with you
And you're with me
I'll be content
And be happy
Because only you
Can sustain me
Only your love
Matters to me
So come
Escape with me

Short piece.
Thanks for reading!

Pat Lynett

I want you to stay
But I also want you to leave
You said it was better for you
It was better for me
But how can I see
When love is blind
I can only walk through walls
When you're by my side.

Lost love

Namaz was less prayer and more about
Standing beside Amma and mirroring her,
When as a toddler I stood on the chataai
Murmuring as she did,
Bending down as she did,
Resting my head on the floor
And then waiting to come back up
When she did,
Some days I'd be so sleepy I'd sway on the mat,
Only to be jolted up by an angry Hmph! from her side,
Some days the patterns on the mat seemed like
They were God's silhouette- something she always denied,
And some days we took a break,
Going no-Namaz for five days,
Times of silently bonding with the Almighty and the Amma,
Slowly faded into me deciding to pray solo,
When the time for maghrib coincided with a
Mother-daughter tiff,
And even when we stood praying side by side,
I'd make it a point to not let our sajdas coincide,
On the mat laying bare our rifts and divides.
I wonder if Amma noticed me daydreaming during prayer,
My musings whether God understood English,
My requests to Him to make that crush like me back,
My teenage self angrily bubbling at her obtrusions to my 'freedom'
As she prayed and prayed for me.
Years have passed,
And how I'd love to synchronise again,
The pace of our prayer, the length of our sajda,
But the days, and this new house,
Are now ridden with so much more clutter,
That, though the chataai has stayed the same,
There's not enough space to accommodate
Both daughter and mother.

chataai - mat
sajda - prostration to God
maghrib - fourth obligatory prayer of the day

This is an ode to my friends.
For the ones I've loved since day one, and the ones I have learnt to love.
For the ones that make me laugh until I cry, and the ones that make cry to the point where I laugh,
and for the ones I hate to love.

This is for my friend,
for the one, I got drunk with first.
We stole a liter bottle of cider and four beers and drank them in the park near my house.
This is for my friend,
for the one who was too scared to tell the head of our year that she didn't choose GCSE sports for her choices,
she chose Geography,
but, instead of raising her hand,
she battled through the course for two years for fear
of hatred from her teachers.

This is an ode to my friend who cries at parties,
who swears he will die alone,
surrounded by married friends,
as we hold his hands,
he dies an early death.
This is for my friend who refuses to conform to gender stereotypes,
who loves his hair long,
but even though he's an animal at parties,
he shakes when no one is looking.

This is an ode to my friends,
for the one
who's grandma is dying,
and they still manage to show up to parties with a drawn on smile,
and a crate of beer,
this is for my friend who has depression,
and we have to tempt him out of the bathroom
with a promise of a vodka shot.
Or the friend who has anxiety,
and asks me to speak at restraunts,
who is just finding her voice after seventeen years.

This is an ode to my friends,
for the one who is transitioning into a girl,
after 18 years of living in the wrong body,
for the one who are scared to leave the house
when it's icy because he might slip and break his ass.
For the friend, I have liked since I was eleven, and somehow the scars still burn when they drunkenly kiss me at parties.

This is an ode to my friends that leave me out of conversations,
who have inside jokes they sprout when I'm around,
because they love each other more than anything in the whole school,
This is for the ones that went to the movies to see the film they knew I was dying to see, and never mentioned it
until it slipped out at a sleepover.

This is an ode to my friend,
who broke her leg whilst dancing in her favorite musical,
and the part was given to someone else,
for the friend who has applied to seven universities, and is still refused a place because of her mental state.
This is for the friend whose mother died when she was 12,
but when we hang out, she makes the realm crease with laughter.

For the friends who forget I'm their friend,
for the ones that ignore me when they're upset,
for the ones that tell me daily that they love me,
for the ones that cry at Disney movies,
for the ones that laugh at videos of past times,
for the ones I hate that I adore,
for the ones I cry over,
because I can't make them happy anymore.

This is an ode to my friends,
the ones I love more than myself,
the one who carefully watches his weight,
for the one who is so self-conscious, he wears baggy jumpers to hide his body,
This is an ode to my friends who have scary parents,
for the friends who made a pyramid out of stones and raised a nation,
for the friends who try their hardest and still achieve nothing,
for my friends the world has forgotten,
and the friend that seems to fit perfectly into everyone's heart.

This is an Ode to my friends,
the ones I know I will die loving,
with them by my side,
they have been with me through thick and thin,
they give me cups of tea with two sugars when I'm having a bad episode,
for the ones that cry when they hear a certain song, because it reminds them of when they tried to off themselves in the toilet,
for the one that has never had a partner,
for the one who refuses to get married.

This is an ode to my friends,
the family I chose,
the ones that send me stupid messages at four am,
then question why I'm awake so late.
For the friend that gets blackout drunk,
for the friend that smiles so hard his cheeks ache,
for the one with weak knees,
who, when she laughs, falls to the ground in a fit of giggles,
for the friends, I will marry, loving.
Speak now or forever hold your peace,
and I know they will stand and protest because they're my true life partners.

An ode to my friends,
who I love more than anything,
for the ones I'll continue to treasure until the world turns apocalyptic,
and even after that,
as we collapse through the stars,

I'll hear them laughing at a joke.



I have collected Postal Stamps
Some of those were ancient
Some fresh prints

I have collected Postal Stamps
Some of those traveled
Some never worth-ed

I have kept Coins
Some of those were Gold
Some Rusty but precious

I have kept Coins
Some of those melted & lost
Some tempered & gone

I have claimed Automobiles
Some of those were Hot Rods
Some fragile Classics

I have owned Automobiles
Some of those were auctioned
Some been Junked
Except my one & only mi(N)i cooper...

Deep Sangani

If you were
to undress
the light
in my eyes
you would
find your
swimming through

//Skinny love
chloe fleming

To love a ghost trapped behind a gated core-
Is to love a hollow shell and expect nothing more.

Framework narrowing, crumbling, and cracking
While loose leaf lullabies fable my lacking.

Tiresome symphony's play my heart's theme
While love is grown slow, curated behind sheen.

Endlessly flailing for something more sturdy,
But you can't expect grace when you haven't any glory.

We fall apart, yet again, in the light of the day,
But the nighttime is when our ghosts can play.

War-torn love taints our bruised flesh,
Love you can't feel behind the cloud of regret.

To love a ghost trapped behind a gated core-
You must love that hollow shell, expecting nothing more.

Caitlin Gyimesi

In great windowed halls, your silent breaths echo,
as wind waves the tapestries of being.

From your eyes, your pupils amiss
but ever-watching me.
Surface of marble instead of flesh, your stature is ever-lasting.

In corridors of skeletal limestone,
endless rows wishing to be more,
wishing for the breath of life.

Standing, perfect specimens of this sort, before me.
Though some with faces of anguish and discontent, melancholy and despair,
Will soon take up bronze and strike all before them.

Am I ready for humanity?

From my omnipresence of stone,
the creation of man from marble instead of clay.

Am I ready for humanity?

Dylan Mcconnell

I am from a crystalline chandelier
From kit-kats and crayola
I am from the dusty cobwebs in the corners of our house
sad, sweet, smooth
I am from Topaz
an aluminum and fluorine mixture.
I'm from thanksgiving and hope.
From Kerra and Beth
I am from the nervous laughter and card games
From gum rotting in your stomach and shoes changing feet.
I'm from the lack of religion, no Christianity or Buddhism in this house.
I'm from Madison, WI
Oyster Stew, and sauteed zucchini
From the horrendous stories told about my dad. Making him look like the bad guy and vice versa.
The threats of being kicked out, not realizing I'd actually get kicked out.
Under my room, lays the closet. The closet has everything our family represents. From pictures to mementos to journal entries.
I am from these yellowed pictures, pages, and cards.
Rough and smooth somehow.

Fritzi Melendez

He wants to pretend that last night was on the timeline of never.
But he forgets to remember that I’m an overthinker.
Drinking the venom that forms on his mouth.
Letting it spread into my veins until it numbs my capability to make words come out.
Tangled in his web of lies, waiting patiently to let him bite my head off.
Beaten up by his uncontrollable anger until I’m left in gravel with a bloody spit and a hoarse cough.
Standing at the very end of the line of dominoes he purposefully toppled over.
Unsure of his motives to hurt me, I don't think the pain will get any better.

I don't know what I did wrong for him to hate the person he used to love so dearly.
I feel death will be the bandage for the knife wounds he left in my heart so merely.
I wish he knew how much it hurts and how much I cry.
But to him, it's just another day passing by.

I don't know what I did for him to resent me so much.
Prince Gerald

When I was little I was afraid of needles.
The skinny shiny end, like the backs of beetles.
Mom holding my hand tight as I stood there. Feeble.
Telling me I was one of the bravest people.
She ever met.

Afterwards, I'd cry and lay there fetal.
She would tell me it was to prevent measles.
To stop me from looking like a red polka-dotted easel.
But I always told myself, they were evil.

And now, where am I?
The needle's no longer an enemy but an ally.
As I feel the cold metal devil,
and revel in this bed and dishevel,
and elevate to feel my fate slipping,
I told myself I was on a higher level.

So that I could ignore the fact,
that I made a blood pact,
With the wrong pack,
of crack,
trying to find my sanity, is like a needle in a haystack,
maybe I need a life jacket,
to save me from drowning myself.
The white walls, and black shelves,
All stare at me like I'm deaf.
But I can hear.
I can hear just fine,
and find the time,
this time,
ill quit.
I swear it.

When I was little I was afraid of needles.
The skinny shiny end, like the backs of beetles.
And now, I'm staring into a mirror, and choking myself.
Trying to tell myself.

To get rid of this evil.


Outside the rain falls  
Clearly on the garden path
The kettle has finished boiling

Hot tea, the steam rises
Like whispers in the winter air
That disappear with my thoughts

As I take a sip and wonder if the universe
Ever feels small
Or alone

Tea is my comfort food
KD Miller


i used to be sentimental,
i declare like some sort of achievement
like it is something to be proud of

that i feel nothing
and i do, i think

but i have always been told
my writing is analytical
corpse cold, to the point

the car's quiet in the night
and, moving to the corner
and crossing my arms

i entertain the notion of what've i done
but life doesn't mean anything
and that's the good part

i laugh but I'm not smiling
as you confirm this idea
the fields are

evil and dark
but how do i explain
i can't it's not like i have ever felt it before

with a smirk
play with my hair

and remember
what being a woman's
good for.

Lily Mae

A year ago today my faith was tested
I gazed upon the face of my sister and yet
cancer distorted the woman I knew

Morphine drops

I go home to shower and my Nephew comes in
"She's gone, we all left the room and she left".
Mourning shoes are put on

Xanax daze

The usual chaos, drama, screaming
yelling and people pissing on space  
once shared by us all ...wanting to covet her  
to our breasts

Hells fire

Closing up my emotional shop  
I move forward this whole year with
a knowing that she for once is flying
high with all our friends and family...

Peace needed

Today I couldn't function well
the tears with memories of her letting go
and me forced to let go overwhelmed me


I've never felt so alone sister.  I never  
thought I'd have to live without you
here I am...alone, in body, mind  and spirit

I feel forgotten, you knew me, and still loved me
I feel betrayed, and yet know better
I hate to feel because the hole in my heart
that's been empty since you left me aches

I'm trying sister...I'm trying~


love has been greater than a mere chemical reaction
love has been the steady, exhilarating thump in my chest
a smile plastered on my face from the overwhelming wave of euphoria
love has been the soft, trembling lips
a gentle, prickling sensation that buzzes across each nerve of my body
love has been the gentle graze of your eyes on the warmth of my cheeks
a shiny, wide eyed and adorning gaze as you unearth your true self
love has been healing
love has been liberating
love has been passionate
it has been you
it has been i
love has been us

i'll treasure it
Joshua Marshall

I look into those watery
eyes, years of pain upon
your face; not a breath
could calm the tides.

All of those beloved
people, traveling through
time and space; not one of
them stays alive.



Being trapped in a corner
Where everything stops
And simultaneously
Comes crashing down in a torrent of voices.
Echoing the same self loathing
That you beat every day, and lose to every day.

Looking desperately for a way out
Ready to sell your soul to the wrong buyer
For a quick gratification
Or just a way out.

Boxed in

Cave in, but can’t save him.

Jerking in his sleep but it’s not working

It won’t stop. His head is unlocked
Because he left his keys out of the lockbox

Struggling to breathe.
It’s only been 3 minutes



And then everything stopped.

And he became numb again.

Still twitching. Still feeling it.
 But buried.
Ice over the water’s surface

It came out messy, but I didn't want to touch it. It's just how it is.
Jay Claywell

I smiled at her and she got upset,
climbed into her boyfriend's truck,
and wouldn’t look at me.

Just before this,
I'd watched her,
with my poet's eye,
hang up the receiver of the pay-phone  
I'd parked in front of.

The smile,
on her face was huge,
remarkable, in fact.

It made her not-so-pretty face
absolutely radiant,
so I took note,
smiling back.  

Whomever she'd spoken to  
had obviously,
and with great  
purpose and verve,
bestowed that smile  
unto her with verbiage.

And, so I took it away.
I hadn't meant to.

Perhaps it was the fee  
we'd both been obliged to pay,

for this story  
to be  


Shake the world in its little globe
snow covers a rustic disguise
flick it from the shelf as lights strobe;
it tumbles down, toward demise

Shattered against granite
Oh the people, they scream
a world rendered finite
cling to the pieces, I can dream


In the dusk of war
Of my own personal battles
That seethed and wailed,
uprooted from the ground
Like weeds beneath the shallow mulch
Did my own fears come to fruition,
Seeds nestled between memories
Suckling on life as soon as it enters me.
Though rare and bleeding
Did spill into my life
At the same moment more people arrived -
Those who would do the cleaning
"Oh, come now," they said
For I'd been mulling about in
My own person,
Not as much as I'd been swimming in
A glass of Merlot and cherry wine;
For I'd drowned in a solution so pure before -
All besides the sting and reverberating warmth of
The lord in my glass
Would be toxic for me.

All else must be choked down willingly
And the audience an unworthy witness.

One month and you’re still gone
One month and you’re not here
One month and I still miss you
One month and I’m still grieving
One month and God knows how many tears
But it’s one month still the same

Some days I wondered how I’d keep going
Sometimes I could barely hold myself together
Somedays I thought maybe I was healing
Sometimes I thought maybe I wasn’t
One month and God knows how much pain
But it’s one month still the same

I still don’t sleep well and I’m still afraid of dreams
I still can’t listen to your music for fear of breaking down
I still see that everyone misses you
I still cry and grieve and wish it wasn’t true
One month and God knows how it hurts
But it’s one month still the same

It’s one month and you’re still gone
It’s one month and you’re still an angel
It’s one month and you’re still missed so much
It’s one month and it hasn’t really mended
One month and God knows how you’re doing
But it’s one month still the same

We miss you, one month, two and thirty
We miss you, cause you’re way up there
We love you, though it hurts like hell
We love you, one year, two and thirty
One month and God knows that we’re healing
But it’s one month still the same

It’s one month, and I know we’re hurting
It’s one month, but time still heals
It’s one month, and I’m still crying but
It’s one month, and we’ll keep going
One month and God knows all that happened
But it’s one month still the same

We miss you


I wanted to buy you a rose but no one was selling. I’m not sure what I would have done with it anyway, but...I thought of you a lot today.

Your eyes can say one thousand words.
A picture
of the galaxies,
framed by your long lashes
which have the strength to latch onto me

Your eyes can say one thousand words
But you have not yet given me
the map
the legend
the dictionary
or the puzzle's key.

John Bartholomew

We all want to live the high life, but few can ill afford it
The glamour the glitz to dining at the Ritz, a means to which we could all be easily adjusted
But the nine till five pays pittance for those shots in Hello and Vogue
The dreamer can dream their dreams while living off that hefty loan

The Range Rover, the Levante, the Lexus RX, who wouldn’t be jealous of a little luxury
The clothes to the house with security and lights, boy you must be worth a few pennies
Erroneousness and the falsehood of a life well concealed
Paying back that percentage rate from which you may now reel

The reality is your just keeping up with the Jones's
Penny pinching is a way of life but best not show the neighbours
Walk on with your head held high in the knowing that all’s not good
Struggling to pay the bills and sometimes even your food

So here comes the bail out from someone close by
Indebted to your eyeballs without the decency to even cry
The banks would laugh at your misgivings knowing the debt was in their hands
But you carry on, it’s a way of life hanging onto that final strand

You’re in the clear, all debt is gone, time to make a fresh new start
A second hand Fiesta, fag burns in the seat, what happened to my big shiny car
The mums at the gate all talking in sneers, now that I’m out of the pack
Fill out that online form, more credit to burn, time to get back on track,
and revitalize that false front.


The recession won’t be over till we raise a generation that knows how to live on what they’ve got. – Unknown

"Why are you crying?
You knew it was going to die."

Humans are strange creatures.
I've known that from the start.

You were no exception.
For the time being.

You cried over everything.
Animals dying, falling over.

Whatever it was, you'd cry.
In a way, I thought you were pitiful.

But I have grown since childhood.
Remembered who I was, once upon a time.

I'd cross worlds to protect you.
Even though you contradict me all the time.

You don't like what I say.
I never understood why.

I killed all those humans for you.
Those heathens.

But even then, you cry.
You cried and cried until no more tears would flow.

I remember the words to spoke to me.
Each one slipping out on a sharp tongue.

You had no more tears.
They had run out.

You hated me.
Despised me.

So we fought.
I thought we could reconcile.

Begin again.
Life brand new.

But when I turned to you to speak.
What stared back at me was dull.

A hollow vessel.
Void of a human heart.

You wouldn't speak to me.
You wouldn't breathe for me.

No matter how much I yelled.
You would never hear.

And for the first time in my life.
I cried.

"Hey, Akira,
What are these feelings?"

in celebration of the release of 'devilman: crybaby.'

In the beginning it was beautiful, Every day so romantic, Thanking God for sending me such an amazing human being. But seasons change and people forget what they proclaimed.

Waiting for your phone call even though it never came. I can't make you love me the way you did before. Your love is confusing yet tantalizing. Like a drug I keep going and screaming your name.

To stay with you is a pattern but for some It's a pattern of disbelief. I don't even blame them because I struggle to plan even the simplest of things. Let alone thinking I'm in love with the commander in chief.

Make up your mind. I want you. I hate you. I don't love you. This is a danger zone. I'm crazy over you but despise everything about you. You're down for the ride but we both are not ready for a lifetime.

Who cares right? Rollercoasters have their highs and lows and still are lots of fun. Love is not set by definition but the way you make me feel. So I guess if I'm happy for a short time It's better than being sad till the end of time.


love is not a safe word
it’s one haiku revised 400 times
on cracked leather chairs in the corner of cafés

some of us love badly
she says as she kisses the rim of her glass.
some of us love stretched out
like pizza dough that rips when our rolling pin rolls it too thin.

some of us love in secrecy
we do not trust your hands.
you try to pull our scalp off and draw your portrait on our mind

some of us love clean
like bubble bath that smells like lavender from some fancy store in the mall
some of us love dirty
we cant clean you off our skin

some of us kiss with our teeth
some of us braid our lovers into our hair
and when we remove the hair tie
it is crimped and messy and tangled

some of us love love
but only far from home
when we slip into bed we start thinking
and we can’t stay still

some of us wash our clothes even when they don’t smell
or aren’t stained
just because it feels like you are inside of our shirts and pants and sneakers

some of us walk alone past your house
on the way to ours
and stop at the front step
waiting for you to come out
and smile at us
the only thing we wait for today
are the smudged signatures of snails
scrawled across your pavement

some of us love to the bone
until there are no more “ifs”
just “is” and “are”
the collected poems of our fingers
swollen, bruised, red like a bouquet of roses

some of us love
and we regret it
we never get home in time for dinner because of it, we leak like a faulty faucet, we sleep with our pillows over our heads to keep everything in
but some of us love
some of us own a watch and know the time with a glance at our wrist, some of us own a sponge to soak up the water, some of us own satin pillows that feel like whispers on our cheekbones

Florine Imo

apologizing to you
is like
putting  your heart
in a bag
with a broken zipper

you close it
it opens from the other side
right away

can't fix it
can just take another bag


Within my soul I’ve found yours
Are they different?
They are one, they are one with the cosmos,
But our sub souls have a strong gravity acting on them,
A gravity unexplained by science,
A gravity we’ve chosen to name love,
Scientifically oxytocin creates this feeling, but oxytocin is a by product of this very gravity,
What we choose to believe is up to us
The sky is blue
Love is the fifth dimension
A day will come, far far away,
A collective surge of this gravity,
Will pull all creatures together,
There will be no anti love - no hunger no wars,
This dimension we only experienced in parts,
Will save us from our own destruction

little lion

i am not the kind of sick
that leaves the body flushed
at 104 degrees
in the middle of the winter.

                                                               ­                     i am not the kind of sick
                                                            ­                         that causes every breath
                                                          ­         to force its way back up your throat
                                                          ­                     while dragging razor blades
                                                                ­           along the inside on your neck.

                       i am not even the kind of sick
                       that comes with a vaccination
                                  or an antibiotic
                            that will chase it away.


                                                               ­                           i am the kind of sick
                                                            ­                        that leaves you locked in
                                                              ­                    the bathroom during class
                                                           ­          because you can't seem to stop the
                                                             ­  flow of tears running down your face.

i am the kind of sick
that leaves your hands
and your voice
when it's your turn to order dinner
at the diner you've been to
a thousand times.
                                              i am the kind of sick
                                      that leaves you feeling lonely
                                              in a crowded room
                                      filled with the people you've
                                           known your whole life.

i am the kind of sick
                                                                ­                                 that nobody sees
                                          because it's all in my head
                                      and i can’t get it out.

depression is real. anxiety is real. bpd is real. ocd is real. mental health is just as important as physical health. take care of yourself.
Rob Rutledge

Clear skies are often coldest,
Tempests' temper seems subdued.
Sunlight skims the tiles of rooftops,
Admires the view.
The sky was never blue.
Obsidian haze and gunmetal days
Light the life we choose.
Slightly bruised.
Broken yet not dismayed.
Too long we have been walking,
Proud in our shroud of the grey.

My brother, my teacher,
My foe and my friend.
Our ghosts shall speak
Once more at the end.

Some deep-thinker claims
the moon may well be hollow
and shouldn't even be there.
Hard to wax romantic under
a possible alien machine--
be it abandoned supply station
or fantastic dust-covered
Death Star. Guess this is what
most folks would call "lunacy."


I only wanted to love him
But his love wasn’t tangible


Maybe the way the curve of your spine fits into me is an indication
of how the earth meets the sea.
Frothing, frigid and free

Maybe the way our lips convene is an illustration
of a star being born
Colliding, rising, expanding
With every breath we whisper to each other
the wind caresses the mountains in such delicate manners

Maybe the way our eyes meet
searching for a long lost landmark
{Home at last,
or at least until tomorrow}
reveal the discovery of deeper mysteries
Cold, comforting, coalescent

Maybe the simplest brush of skin
brings earthquakes to our veins
Seeped with unspoken words
warmth and peril rolled in one

Maybe, just maybe, the first orgasm between two lovers
is the modern tsunami,
a flood of pleasure, teeming with emotions and laughter

The rain that lulls us to sleep
is the same as the water that cascades down cracks and cliffs
Racing to meet her soulmate,
Salt water
Fresh water
Two hearts beat in solidarity
Melting one into the other
Tongue on tongue
Fingertip to fingertip

Maybe the way we started is the way we end,
with nothing but empty space and deafening silence.

laura jessica

never ending love
never ending lov
never ending lo
never ending l
never ending
never endin
never endi
never end
never en
never e
nothing l
nothing la
nothing las
nothing last
nothing lasts
nothing lasts f
nothing lasts fo
nothing lasts for
nothing lasts fore
nothing lasts forev
nothing lasts foreve
nothing lasts forever.

hi! this is interruption of love. if you have a different idea i respect that! please respect mine xx

Do you rember when we went and bathed on the beach?
I do.
Do you remember when we played with bottles on the street?
I do.
Do you remember climbing palm trees for coco water?
I do.
Do you remember playing with bottles on the street?
I do.
Do you remember when I gave you all my money to take out your debt?
I do.
Do you remember the day I saved you from that gang?
I do.
Do you remember the day you murdered me?
You do.
And I do, as well.

JR Potts

It is in the midst of strife
when the burden weighs most heavy,
your innards writhe and twisted;
the discomfort tugging at you so intensely
you cannot help but feel the tightness in your throat.

It is in the thick of this black mist
when your hands pick and pull
upon the wisping thread inside your head,
unraveling the rabble of cowardice voices
which spill like venom on your thoughts.

It is the unsettling notion
you are alone in a vast and empty ocean
sinking, suffocating and claustrophobic,
your mind is brimming, overflowing,
afraid it might just crack right open

It is knowing
these thoughts which come pouring
from that fractious bore inside your skull
seethe with undisclosed emotions
and their exposure to the air could crush you whole.

Will you allow this shameful wave
to crash atop you with all its galling weight
and drag you under grain by grain?


Will you battle back the coming storm,
standing above the surging tide
a rampart refusing to forfeit a single inch
of your distinguished shore?

I say battle.
Battle with the erosive waters rising inside you.
Battle knowing fully at first you are destined to lose.
The hero must be humbled
before others see him as the hero too.
So battle damn it, battle you glorious fool!

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