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 Nov 2014 Mark Steigerwald
DRPQ
deep inside my chest there is a whirring a stirring
of flavors such as lemon and chair
pull me aside
explain to me that everything's going to be alright
please

all I hear is silence
and the thumping of my heart
why is it still beating
I thought I heart an eating, a rotting
deep inside my chest

What is this I'm feeling?
Please tell me that everything will be all right.
I don't know
I feel weird
You've got a shield to hide behind,
For now.
You've got his eyes locked on you,
For now.
The day will come.
His eyes will widen in realization of your selfish carcas of a personality,
Your shield will dissolve away with your fears beginning to consume your body inch by inch.
And when that day comes you will wish you never stepped a foot on this planet, your worst nightmares will become your dreams.
Succubus will become nothing to what the glass shattered before you will reveal.
No number of ghosts or demons will compare to what your eyes will feast upon the day this world reaches through your chest and clenches the rock of a heart you posses tearing it out of your frail body.
You will sit in a chair strapped as can be and watch as your pebble of a heart is crushed with the hammer of your own self pitty.
Beg for nightmares for they are the least frightening for what will stand your way.
And as your blood runs from the slit in your throat to the paved floors, a smile bigger than sunlight will stare right at you.
Thirsty for blood and no blood tastes more rewarding than the one from the knife which penetrated right through your worthless body of a harlet.
The night the psychopath within will be unleashed to feast on the taste of your selfish, ice cold blood and flesh.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros
Oops
An old town that escapes the reality of today. 
I'd trade anything to see it in all of its glory. 
No cell phones, everyone smiling and waving.
Everything peaceful and happy. 
The sun peeking through the pine trees.
Do you hear the mockingbird's song? 
The summers are hot and humid,
the creaks are filled with crawfish,  
The banks filled with frogs and
Us playing cowboys and Indians.
A summer love and
A Mason jar of cold sweet tea. 
"Thank you Mrs. Maybell!" 
We giggle and run to our hiding place near the oak trees.
"Tag your it!" 
We all scurry barefooted through the woods. 
Screams, shouts. 
We forgot how we are still here, 
In the same town over taken by the sounds of silence. 
You may think this story is over; 
The truth is, it’s only just begun. 
"Back when I was a child" 
maybe seem boring to some, 
but if you listen-
You may be surprised how you will want to go back 
to a time when we could play near the creaks
and pay five cents for a coke. 
Life was simpler back then,
Back when; 
This town was small and simple, 
but it was home. 
And always will be.
I wrote this listening to my grandmother tell me stories of her home town, she did not think I was listening... but i am sure glad I was.
Your noon blue eyes catch the open horizon.
Moss green and hedgerow, we lie as the
sun bursts, exploding from behind your body.
Thin cotton whispers off your thigh,
our voices are woven into the sound of the reeds.
The thin air quivers a shoal of oak leaves
breathless, the grass is spun to gold.
Used to be stuck,
so firmly rooted.
Like the ugly duck
had to be re-routed.

Fearfully and unluck,
my soul was muted.
Until to me struck,
and for once, all I disputed.

Can't do what's right
so I'll do what's left.
I'll follow this light
until my soul I put to rest.

— The End —