Tonight, I watch as the moon shields herself away from the earth with the clouds
I wish I could tuck myself away as easily as she
Instead, I am pulled under, away from everything

Sinking
Drowning
Accepting

Although it is dark where I sit at the bottom
My lungs are too full
And I’ve run out of spite to fight the weight that settles me
The pressure is pushing down on my limbs
I feel crushed, it uses too much energy to move
And I’m tired

My supply of will has run cold
Overwhelmed and desolate
I will watch as the moon shines above
As I cry below

did you laugh in your sleep last night,
how do you suffocate the fear,
can a dream feel your smile,
do your eyes wake up with tears.

Inside you

is where I want to

be,

thrusting

within the folds

of your mind

penetrating

the sweet softness

of your soul,

throbbing

as I release my love

deep within you.
                                     Jon York   2019.

like the moon
I go through

phases

some of my
lights go out

and I become
dull and distant

give me time
they will come

back on

like the moon
I do not ask

for praise or
forgiveness

it is just a
phase

I am going through

Dedication: Hours to your craft
Inspiration: Found from within
Motivation: To climb and succeed
Squandered: Stolen, lost, destroyed.

I used to wait for you,
Right here in this corner
And when I felt quite blue
Your hug would make me warmer

But now the days have changed,
I step big steps on my own  path
I feel we've got estranged
It's really done, I've done the math

That one time when you didn't hear me
Followed by the other time you didn't see me
I'm telling you one plus one is two, my friend
I've done the math, we've reached the end.

The sweet incantation of the witches,
Fear of the village troops
all the fear mongers rambling on the end of days.
Some would define this as more than just a new evil
In the eyes of the saddened,
This is the epitome of death

Dear me,
Don't just sit
Rise, and pursue greatness.

Don't just watch
Go after what you want.

Don't just exist
Strive and start living.

Don't just dream
Work hard and aim for success.

Don't get tired
Keep hiking until you get to the peak.

It left me burning. I expected hollow, but never the all together searing smoking pain. An eternal scalding I cannot shake. I envisioned my eyes aglow, instead my inside set ablaze

sometimes i wonder what it's like
to be a star
to look down on the world
while it's asleep
to watch the lost souls
wander outside at night
and look up at the sky
and smile
i wish i could be a star

crooked lips and
gleaming teeth
sunken bones and
hollow eyes

empty empty empty

that is the smile of someone
dead inside

I am the deep, the sky in reverse
I have what you seek, for better or worse

I am the blue of infinite depth
I've swallowed the crews and cleared the decks

You are afraid or maybe intrigued
Of the place where you played and also was freed

Kiss me now like you did before
Give me your vow and the ocean is yours.

They’d waited too long to say

“I love you”.

3 words. 3 syllables.

Yet they held millions of emotions unspoken.

and now that they’d done it, they wouldn’t,
couldn’t, stop

they told each other all the time. In the end of the argument and before the good news.

In the middle of the storm, even though it was hard to see, and after, when the raging winds had settled on a breeze

before the rising sun turned the sky pretty colors and after it flickered out and faded away into the dark

Underneath the stars that their love had been etched into

There was no love until death for them. Because it would never stop. Their love was beyond. It rose above any border that would dare to try and stop it. There was no finish line

because they were each other’s end game.  
-L.R

"i don't want you to drown"

please, i'd be so much happier
submerged under water

Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.

I'd like to cut my heart open
to take you out
or maybe
to see you one more time

I seem to be broken now.
Pieces fall as strangled
shapes to the floor.  
I toe them, looking
for the edges to rustle
back together.

Fragments fall.
Dried edges and shriveled
meanings.  (The torn
remains of my old age.)

I think I am broken.
My poems drift
off as blowing leaves
in a dry season.  
I rake them into
a pile.  The crackles
and snaps. The ends
of thought.

I write this to save the few
remaining poems I have.
Words fall from the
dustpan of dry letters
on a cold night.

Caroline Shank
1.20.21

To this day,
your name
still hurts my tongue
but I still say it anyway.
Sometimes I like to
hear my soul
gently tear itself
apart.

What's this all about .?

𝗜'𝗺 𝗮𝗻 𝗔𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻-𝗔𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻. 𝗜'𝗺 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲𝘀 & 𝗜 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗹𝗲
𝗖𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗰𝘀 & 𝗜 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗰𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗱. 𝗠𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗔𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮 & 𝗔𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮
𝘁𝗼𝗼 & 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗔𝗳𝗿𝗼𝘀 & 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗪𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻
𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗸𝗲𝗽𝘁 𝗮 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗯𝘆 𝗱𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝘂𝗯 𝗮𝘁 𝟰𝟴.

In the cold, dark
        of January,
         I remembered
              you
        the most.
  As the chill
      snapped bones
              like branches,
     as the afternoons
   bathed themselves
in gray,
     as the birds
and the backs
      shook,
so did my lips
   around your name.
I'm so happy
     January is almost
over now.

ever so gently your loving embrace engulfs me
your sweet breath is an ****** high
swimming in your waters , your scent drives me into
a  frenzy
I will drink from your well alone for a vow was made
I will meet your breast with a gentile caress
ever so lightly I feel the slip of your earlobe between my lips
as I lay next to your curves I lovingly kiss the nape of your
neck.
softly whispering my love for you  and only you.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

Eating my beyond burger with a fork and knife,
drag race in the background,
my Samantha doll by my side.
This isn't loneliness anymore.
This is just life now.

I'm not very good with words anymore,
maybe I never was.
So little has changed and yet everything has.
I still long for love.
I still want to be wanted.
That might never change.

Yet now this lonely world is one I've come to accept,
come to love.
I may be my only friend here,
but that's one more than last year.

Nothing I create is good,
but I'm learning to create anyway.
I'm learning to share my bad art,
at least it's art.
Right?

I dream of slitting the throat of the dog next door.
Someone outta shut him up.
I used to think that was an evil thought,
now I know there's no such thing.

I turn 21 in 2 days.
Math. Yuck.
I'm old,
getting older every second.
Whatever.
I will grow into this skin,
I'm sure of it.
Maybe.

I'm grateful.
More than anything I am grateful for it all.
The pain,
the pleasure,
the guilt,
the anger.

Pills,
family,
friends,
dolls.

No one reads these except me.
So this one is for her.
For you.
Anne,
my love,
my villain,
my biggest fear.

May this year be kind to you,
may you be kind to it.
May you listen to your spirit guides,
may you accept what you never could.

Growth is sticky and wet,
Knowledge is thick and grey.
May you be the light and the darkness,
the cut and the band aid.

More than anything,
be okay.
You're gross,
in a sort of beautiful way.
May you be okay with that.
Truly.




Bad art is still art.
Right?
I think so.
For now.