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 May 2014 Alice
Liam C Calhoun
The blood boiled
In the bottom of my shoe
And had it not been for the
Dream and requisite
Starvation,
A hunger born only yesterday,
I’d have simply walked,
Walked anywhere, walked away –
Leaving dignity to the whims of
Drink…never dumb, but numb;
The path of least resistance.

It’s within that second
And second swipe
Of burn to my ankle,
Alcohol unto a wound
And far from belly,
That I recognize Achilles
And the tendon
That now throbs –
Our brotherhood
Sealed in weakness, wanton suicide
And early grave
Should I break and break and
Break.

In desperation,
I open my wallet and look to her,
Two eyes atop gloss,
For the memories that fade
During these deadened hours -
Smiles lying in wait and simpler times
As I pull up my sock,
So that the cotton soaked with the
Sweat of others and their hours
Seals my very own crimson away.

I sigh.
I continue on;
You do too -
4 more hours to sleep
And one more payday to eat.
 May 2014 Alice
Tom Leveille
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
 May 2014 Alice
Andrew Durst
Steps.
 May 2014 Alice
Andrew Durst
Everything you ever wanted;
everything you ever dreamt about.
They're all just sitting
at the top of
the stair-case
         that we call
                    this life...

         All you
      have to
   do is
step.
 May 2014 Alice
Andrew Durst
People
don't
change;

opinions
      do.
 May 2014 Alice
r
Jesus Wept
 May 2014 Alice
r
The sun
rose again
today.
God sighed,
looked away.  
Jesus wept.

r ~ 5/18/14
 May 2014 Alice
Rachel Cloud
i am nothing
and everything

and you can't stop me
 May 2014 Alice
Liam C Calhoun
She’d spread like clockwork,
Her words
And far from
Those
Ample
Black stockinged
Legs –

“I’m not going to sleep with you.”

She’d came to me,
Me and alone
With my return to home,
A bottle,
A thought or two
And
Solitude
Prior the her –

“I’m not going to sleep with you.”

And when three came to
Be,
And to “be” meant to
Close,
Followed soon,
Our kiss
Amid a mid-July
Parking lot,
She’d retreat –

“I’m not going to sleep with you,”

And retract

“Take me home,”

I did.
And when it came time,
That special moment,
Few and far for some,
Every other day for
Others,
I snuck away to the stars,
Slid beneath a pale green tree,
Took a swig from the swiped
Beer
And imagined myself having
Just dodged a bullet.
Published in, "Down in the Dirt."
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