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 Feb 24 Eno
Sarah Foster
People seldom believe
That when you say you’re a storm
You don’t mean a slight breeze
 Feb 24 Eno
Sarah Foster
Sometimes I go places or see people that used to be a huge part of my life and my body doesn’t know how to react. Torn between timelines. Two people at once. Past me and present me do not fit well together. Opposites do not attract because I feel my two selves pulling apart. I used to say the only person for me is me, but not even me is me. Do you get it? I don’t think I get it.
 Feb 24 Eno
Sarah Foster
You are far from anyone. Miles, hours, large measurements of distance and time. You live by yourself in what you and most people call the middle of nowhere. You love being alone. You were born for it. But the mailman comes. He knows you by name. You are one of few on his daily drive. He knows you receive weekly letters from Tracy, and has even learned some other names too. Do you think he knows that every letter begs for your return? He finds you in your garden on Monday mornings. He cares about your produce. He knocks when it rains. He is one of many that care, that pay attention. The people of work refer to you by name, the customers do the same. There is never anyone new. You know what they are there for. They search for corn, cabbage, rice and you. You cannot beg them not to care. Do you think they care? They ask about your cat. Questions are traps. You ride your bike for miles until you reach the safety of your large, lonely home. The ringing in your ears does not let you forget. They are talking about you. They know not to eat your apples but they will continue to buy them. You wish you could stop selling apples, or maybe that you would stop poisoning them. Why must you poison them? Is the phone ringing or is that your ears again? What's the difference? They are thinking about you either way. You gave up inventing something to erase yourself from their minds when you moved here. You need it more than ever. The grass grows long, weeds consume your garden. The mailman still knocks. Your ears ring when you avoid the windows. He knows you're there because you still read the letters. The grass is long but the pile does not grow.

You are surrounded by people.  They rush past you while you sit on a bench that has grown very attached to you. It does not know you by name. You cannot remember the last time you heard your name. You give them a new one every time you order a cappuccino at your usual coffee shop. Everyone is too busy looking at everyone else. No one looks at you. You walk fast, tall, confidentially. You are completely invisible. You were born to be. You are yourself because you can be. You hide in the skyscrapers shadows. They have always been there for you. Your friends are benches and birds. They think you are gentle. You hide behind your computer screen forty hours a week. You do not mind when it looks at you. Does it mind that you look at it? Your mattress is on the floor. You are grounded fourteen floors above the ground. The guard does not make your ears ring so you do not mind him smiling. No day is like the last. Nothing is predictable. You hear everything with the lack of a ring. You are here. You are you. You are alone and you are happy. The mailman does not knock when he leaves bills in your box. He does not care about your produce. He does not remember your name. What is your name again? No one's ears ring because of me. My thoughts are taken up by the way the sky looks between buildings. There is no grass, there is no pile.
 Jan 11 Eno
Perry
Death threats
 Jan 11 Eno
Perry
I woke up
nose running,
head stuffy
perhaps it's the flu
Or maybe I'm just sick
But I am feeling very lethargic
so I Google it
Google says I'm dying
Now why is Google
sending me death threats
I don't know
but I'm not going to the doctor
that's when the real trouble begins
 Dec 2018 Eno
June
i'm naught but a hopeless addict
craving moments that never happened
daydreams that float inside my head
drifting into an inevitable oblivion
the imaginary dust of false possibilities
a sweet ecstasy that decays the mind
 Dec 2018 Eno
Chloe
Haunted
 Dec 2018 Eno
Chloe
I am haunted:
Not by poltergeist,
but by my unlived lives.
Parallel universes
won't ever speak,
they took an oath
to keep from me.
I have words and voices
humming in my head
that will never be met
outside of my bed.
I have to accept
I cannot have it all,
I have to accept
knowing nothing at all.
 Oct 2018 Eno
Annamaria Dosseva
We swallowed our tongues,
fleshy caskets for our feelings
buried in the cemetery
of our guts

Do you feel
that
turning in your stomach?

What we left unspoken
buried
is rolling in its grave.

My love,
when it comes back to life as
vengeful
rotting corpses without spirit
it will eat us alive
from the inside out.
Bent over the painted lines of her road.
Stood a black feathered crow
peeling back a tendon of flesh,
Like a strand of red twizzler candy,
from the tannish white fur
of a dead bunny.

she thought this was cute.

"AWW! THEY'RE KISSING!!"

Her daddy did not correct her.

This memory, he revisits every time she brings a new boy home.
Debates internally,
the tipping scales that balance ignorance and optimism.
If maybe he should have explained the beauty in death, rather than let her beleive her illusions.
The beauty in nature, the circle of life.

Like a cat, she brings home dead animals

Like the owner of a cat,
He is unimpressed.

Maybe if he told her the bunny was dead, she would stop offering herself to the crows.
 May 2018 Eno
holyoak
are you afraid of parking garages
do you think of empty parking spaces
with empty cars beside them
like your own compartmentalized mind
do the empty spaces scare you
like my own scare me
are you afraid of the dust
are you afraid of the ghosts
sitting where people once were
are you afraid of parking garages
are you afraid of the lonely silence
are you afraid of the concrete walls
that are more solid than anything
that you have ever created
are you afraid 
that you'll be just as cold
just as lifeless
are you afraid of parking garages
are you afraid of where they take you
are you afraid of the airports 
that you always end up in
missing those that never come back
are you afraid of parking garages
are you afraid that you'll park 
and that you'll never leave
are you afraid of parking garages
are you afraid of the flickering lights
and your own shadow 
bouncing in front you
are you afraid of going somewhere 
and never coming home
are you afraid of your home
and when they asked you where home is
did you stutter 
because you almost said someone's name
instead of a place
or is your home that parking garage
blank and grey 
empty and hollow
are you afraid of parking garages

[holyoak]
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