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Summer Dec 2015
I dream about them all the time
Constantly
Every night
I am in their arms
Like old times
Under blankets
They pull me in closer
And
I feel their warmth against me
They feel so nice
And I want to stay there forever
I want to stay asleep forever
I don’t want them to leave me again
Then
I wake up
And they are gone
Just like that
I am pushed back into reality
Where they are in love with somebody else.
I wonder if I could just
sleep forever
I am torn between
Staying alive
Just so I can see them loving someone else
every
*******
day
Or
dying.
So I could sleep forever
And stay content
Because in my dreams they’re with me
And that’s all I want
and the nights I can’t sleep
Are the worst
Because I don’t want to wait
Any longer to see them again
And I never want to leave my bed
In my dreams
They still love me
And oh god
how their tongue dances
Near my mouth
And now their hands
Fit perfectly with mine
Summer Dec 2015
you stole my art and turned it into trash
*******.
i have oceans inside of me -
which you are turning into a puddle.
a
*****
*****
*****
puddle.
yet- still i am stronger
more full.
it feels like a cheap imitation
like when i read the words
they are familiar
and it seems like i’ve been robbed of my feelings
i tried so desperately to word correctly with my shakey hands.
did yours shake?
when you stole the words right off paper
did you feel it?
or did you want to seem like you felt it?
so you can seem sad poetic deep beautiful
how badly do you want to be ****** up?
is it so badly that you can dumb everything down
so that it barely even matters?
these words came from deep inside my bones
the ones that felt like breaking
when i wrote them
and the feeling will come over and over again
it will not always be poetic or pretty
learn that.
learn how to write and accept YOUR OWN FEELINGS
WHAT YOU FEEL.
not what somebody else feels
not what somebody wants you to feel.
this poem is not pretty
or poetic
it can barely even pass for a poem
but it was all me.
  Dec 2015 Summer
Z
Laying hints down like stairs for you,

but you'll always be taking your own elevator.
you just don't get it, do you? are you really scared?
  Dec 2015 Summer
Mike Essig
It is usually best to avoid
crushing hopelessness, to swerve
and defer disaster, but even so
the world is well and truly ****** up.

Seek solutions to this conundrum.

Try to avoid curiosity, a pernicious
strain of insanity that conjures up
irrational fears of orangutangs
with meat cleavers, lethally ascetic
Tibetan monks, bathroom carpets
of abandoned razors or Big Macs
rife with E. Coli.

Avoid metaphysical musings that lead
to questions of coleslaw, vegan
water parks, the Team Quadraplegic
Gymnastics squad and the horrors
of the Hilary Clinton Naked Network.

Seek refuge in the present tense to
escape the interrogation of mirrors,
the crafted answer, dacryphilia,
remedial rage, landslides of therapy
and memorizing each month's horoscope.

Consider that mercy is on back order from God.
Remember the best lines of an unread book.
Nap on a battlefield; haggle over imaginary debts.
Set fire to the umbrellas of passing strangers.
Stop to watch the loudness and burn the recovered dead.

Call up new magic for a dying world.
Find beauty in the irradiated glow of burning cities.
Try not to bounce existential checks or notice
the crumbling of distant walls, ruined outhouses,
and the immense bleakness of forever and ever.

Take up training small rodents and lighting holy fires.
Ignore the broken stars, long dead and beyond grief.
Discover the pleasure in erasure, enjoy the biology
of strangeness. Walk many miles without a map
beneath innumerable ladders carefully detouring
around immense flocks of rabid cassowaries.
Throttle the recalcitrant blue sky's silent throat.

Listen to the melody of car wrecks and smashed guitars.
Abandon assumed corpses to dreams of endless cold.
Appreciate futures you cannot believe in but never visit them.
Learn to diagram sentences in Esperanto then speak with toads.
Ignore the slot machine odds against your deepest desires.
Hide beneath the ravenous trees from time's famished maw.
Seek sanctuary in toothy optimism and complete amnesia.

Follow these impossible instructions to the letter
and you will become non-valent, invisible, immune
and no longer notice the world is ****** up
beyond redemption. Go on, give it a try.

  ~mce
HTPG
  Dec 2015 Summer
Carrillo
In her eyes the world started off small and to her surprise
it was a sin to grow old
Age wasn't the purpose of her discovery, rather than the wisdom that came with no recovery
What once used to be a mind of many shades, began transcending to grey after she murdered her rose
colored glasses
Ashes to ashes, she is unable to express or remotely stress how horrifying the rest of the world is
Dust to dust, these forms of beings are resorting to feeding on trends that’s ultimately eating into a
dead end
We justify every reason no matter if it’s ****, slander, or treason- each person is free and
Now we wait for the inevitable
Equality for all- murderers just came from a broken home, a man that beats his wife was just feeling alone
Do you feel sympathetic? For lack of better words, the writer calls that pathetic
Innocence and ignorance is bliss, what you don’t know, you won’t miss
Here lies a society of fearful, sensitive ******
Who watch out for themselves, and call the rest hypocrites
What about that could you miss?
This was the last that the writer wrote, but before she ended her note
A red fingerprint placed gently in between quotes
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