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  Jul 2015 Margot Dylan
Joshua Haines
As the world defends itself from the anxiety of death,
a wind-caressed woman waits by the water,
and signals for silence, unceremoniously.
Waiting for the blood-banks to breed ideals --
which will, inevitably, be exported --
that will turn Natives into faceless, finger-painted  
neo-orphans of the broken nuclear home;
old souls, convinced to be the youth in revolt,
and to be the scrambled egg individuals of a melting ***, that disguises uniform for diversity.

Her lavender dress dribbles the spiraling air, as the copper dust swims by her ankles, knees, and thighs.
I do not remember when she told me that everything we do and say is a defense-mechanism,
distracting us from the fact that one day we will die and be as imaginative as the roles we give ourselves,
as the people we think blend into us,
and as the gods we use as an alternative to a morphine drip.

I stood by the bad river, knowing that all of my attempts at being more than what I was,
was my grasp at an out-of-reach eternity,
and a dream of a humanity that could be affected by one person.

I do not remember when she told me,
"All of our attempts at progressing,
is our way with dealing that we will someday die
and may not have been successful at living forever."
  Jul 2015 Margot Dylan
Joshua Haines
My foggy mouth tries to hide behind rain-smacked glass.
She says goodbye with complacent stares
and with the sudden flash of an umbrella.

The red of her dress doesn't belong in my life.
Each of her strides carry my resentment and weariness,
alongside the melting grey of the Seattle skyline.
So, I don't yell for her or imagine our lives,
as the windshield wipers sweep her image, out of sight, but not out of my head.

I return home, the half I was for decades.
The tread of my shoe mashing bluegrass,
digging up seeds and insect carcass, with every step.
Storm-soaked magazine subscriptions lay on the porch,
and her name is tattooed on every one.

The dog lays on the carpet, ears and eyes perking up at me.
And he knows he's truly alone, because I'll depend on him.

Eggshell kitchen cabinets are jammed with her:
Vermilion, saffron, and burgundy glasses hold
half-empty hangings of golden flat draft,
keeping her day-old, dried saliva smothered on the edges,
like transparent ocean waves dying on a glass coast
and buried in the bottom of the sun-pierced vortex.

What I couldn't realize is that the cup was me:
marked in so many ways,
letting decaying memories burrow and stay.
  Jul 2015 Margot Dylan
Joshua Haines
The sloppy rain slips and slides down the fogged-up windows,
and this lets me know that I am not as small as I think I am.
In a city of three million plus, I feel like the soul of a nation,
even though I'm just a twenty-one year-old piece of plastic, drinking a hipster beer.

The waitress has frizzy hair and oily skin.
She's holding in late-night infomercials and missed ballet recitals, behind her words.
She looks at my luggage and asks where I came from or where I'm going,
and I tell her that the fun thing is that I have no idea where I'm going --
and that I still haven't decided where I've came from.

This city allows new-found anonymity, and I want that to be my cause.
With each passing glance, I know they don't see me, and, to me, that's the slumber-kissed throat-slit I've always dreamt of...

...the streets play music that I only hear -- and I know that's not fair, but I don't care.

And the homeless represent the bowels of the city.
And the businessmen are the ghost-filled engine.
And the middle class is the defense-mechanism I always wanted for Christmas.
And I am the empty delusion, desperately seeking a new pollution.
  Jun 2015 Margot Dylan
Brenda E Suhan
Sitting up at night I adore your cowlick
persisting in a life like a caged
animal is what I call you when I hear about that
girl you’re the love of my life you
say the worst things to me at the best
times like these I remember why I
love how you never bother to call when you’re
late at night I feel your heart
beat me down when I can no longer stand.

Stuck between a rock and a hard
place my hand next to your
elbow my way through the chaos
tangling up my fingers through your
hair stands up on my arms when you
lie on top of me thawing my blood
pulsing through my veins in a blind
rage so passionate I can’t uncoil myself from your comforting
embrace of demons that begin to suffocate my soul.

  Jun 2015 Margot Dylan
Brenda E Suhan
The grass may be greener on the other side
but I’m still on the white picket fence
that we built ourselves with ply,
a wall to the world useless for our defense.

Deciding between you
and them,
between our crumbling foundation
and a long road ahead,
between resentment and
this is where I sit,
on the fence.

  Jun 2015 Margot Dylan
I'm never scared
That's what I say
Because deep inside, I scream lies
And that's why I'm this way.
My soul holds all these secrets
While my heart silently cries
Everyday I try to let go of this chaos
That my better half tries to hide
I appear to be together
But inside I'm a mess
I blame my twisted thoughts and dreams
That bring me this distress..
I blame those hurtful memories
That gave me this despair
"How fortunate" you reply to me
When I say I'm never scared.
  Jun 2015 Margot Dylan
I'm through loving you with my heart
For it expires
It expires like everything else
In my body
I want to love you with my soul
To stand the test of time
To last beyond a lifetime
I want to be able to say,
"I'm all yours."
Without anything in this universe
Contradicting my statement.
I'm all yours.

I don't know. I'm just feeling a lot of things lately.
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