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 Apr 2015 unwritten
Joshua Haines
I remember
when growing up
was desired.
We swung our lungs
upwards,
towards the sky,
so we could steal
the air of the
universe's river.

I'd call you on
my parents' red landline.
You'd call me on
a broken cordless phone.
Your father would yell
and I could hear your mother
knock over things
as she was either
running, hiding, or
fighting back.

You don't exist.
You're a figment of my
imagination.
You're a poem,
but I want you to be
a memory that is real
to substitute the ones
I wish were fake.

You don't exist.
Your name is not
Kimberly or June.
Your ears aren't pierced.
We never played games
or shared deep thoughts.
We never talked about
running the **** away.
We didn't grow up together.
We aren't close.
You were never born.

You are just a phantom
stemmed by an unoriginal
imagination. imagination.
imagination. imagination.
But I want you to be real.
Please exist beyond my mind.

In my head,
you confided in me.
In my head,
I wasn't so ******* alone
from ages 6 to 16.
In my head,
you're a phone call away.
I don't want to write a poem
to communicate to you.
Be born. Be born. Be born.

I have so much
I want to share.
I want you to meet
my girlfriend Rachel.
I want you to hear
about how everything
is going well, for once.

Be born. Be born.
Be born. Be born.
 Apr 2015 unwritten
Joshua Haines
It was four o'clock in the morning. Robert wondered why his name was Robert. He decided to get rid of the "Bert" because it was the name of a Sesame Street character or the name of a ******* in Tempe, Arizona. Then again, he thought, "Hey, just Rob makes me sound like I change tires for a living or that I work out at a gym that discriminates fat people and blacks." Rob or Robert took a second to evaluate his last thought and if thinking "and blacks" made him a racist person.

Robert sat on a bench and wondered if the woman beside him was expecting Forest Gump-esque wisdom.

Robert thought of a friend he had in grade eight, named Alexander. He thought of how Alexander had a glass eye. Robert wondered how Alexander had a glass eye but could not remember or did not know why Alexander had a glass eye. Robert, then, concluded that sometimes he will not know something and how that is okay because most people don't know anything--it's a collection of approximates that stay in our heads, he thought. Robert asked himself if his last thought made him intelligent or dumb and pretentious. Robert decided that he did not know. How meta, he thought. Robert, then, decided to stop using the word "meta" so much, because it made him feel like a professor with bitterness and something to prove.

Robert watched his sister struggle with an eating disorder. She was in a hospital bed, with an IV in her arm. Robert did not know if he would struggle with anything as hard as his sister struggled with anorexia. Robert, then, had intense but fleeting anger at every person that bragged about being anorexic or made it seem cool.

Robert sat on his toilet and wondered what his true identity was and what his true nature was. He wondered what was inherent and what was synthetic. Robert, then, wondered if a synthetic personality was inherent. Robert asked himself if he was a good person. He wasn't sure if sitting on the toilet, in his grandmother's house, and ******* to interracial ebony teen ****, on his iPhone, made him a good person or not. His concerns soon past, though, as soon as Lauren started to **** the pizza guy's white ****.

Robert walked down the street and was contemplating some of the issues that plagued his ****-infested mind, while he was on the toilet. Robert saw a girl running from a guy. Robert asked himself if he was a hero or inherently good. Robert, then, concluded that he was inherently a coward, since he did nothing and hoped that somebody else would save her.

Robert didn't meet a girl and knew that no one would write prose about his meeting a girl and their mutual love for one another. Robert was eating a steak sub, while thinking this.

Robert returned to the hospital, to pick up his sister. On the way home, his sister talked about how attractive her nurse was. Robert asked, "What did he look like?" His sister, then, said, "It wasn't a he. My nurse was a girl." Robert was okay with his sister being attracted to girls, but hoped that she didn't get more than him or more attractive girls than him, because, for some reason, that would make him feel insecure. Robert decided to stop eating so many steak subs and to work out. Robert asked his sister if she wanted to get steak subs. She said, "sure".

Robert was working out in his basement. He heard the sound of retching, upstairs. Robert followed the sound of the vomiting and opened a bathroom door. He saw his sister stick her finger down her throat. He said to his sister, "That isn't anorexia." His sister said, "I know. There's a lot you don't know about me." Robert said, "I'm sorry."
 Mar 2015 unwritten
ephemeral
It isn't fair, you know.
That you get to sleep peacefully
while I toss and turn in bed-
clawing at my arms
and trying to will my thoughts away.
Yet another new series (mind you, I still haven't finished the first one). Text messages that I almost sent, then chose not to, for some reason or another. The song for this poem is "Wherever You Are" by Angus and Julia Stone.
 Mar 2015 unwritten
ephemeral
oh darling. you never really
wanted to die. you just wanted
to silence the voices in your head, and get rid of the hollowness in your chest. you wanted to **** all the pain you were enduring.
it's quite understandable- everyone understands what it's like to suffer (contrary to your belief,
you're not alone.
suffering is a basic part of human existence).
and sometimes, when you get to be in such a bad place, you're not able to remember anything else. all you can see, all you can think about, all you're surrounded by, is misery and sadness and heartache. and dying seems like the only way out of the endless cycle of negativity.
but emotions are a lot like energy- the kind you learn about science. feelings cannot be created nor destroyed,
only transferred.
so even if you finally gathered the courage to commit suicide, your sadness wouldn't disappear. you'd be passing it down to everyone that loved you, and sometimes even people you barely knew. everyone is affected in some way or another.
and while it seems like there are so many reasons to just die, there are
so many things to live for. the world is a beautiful place- humans just make everything complicated for no reason. but there are so many wondrous things that you have yet to experience. there's an entire universe out there- and if you killed yourself now, you'd never get to explore it.
losing you would not only mean losing your body, your soul, and your presence. it would mean losing all the hopes in dreams stored inside of you- both yours, and your parents' wishes for you. we'd be losing so much of the positive- you are not a negative. you have to understand that.
at least one person loves you, and to them, you're everything.
I need you to live, lovely. for me.
"before you **** yourself, just remember that there are places you have not been and things you have not seen. and poems to awe, art to draw, fields to walk through, people to talk to, music to take in, games to win, and books to be read. so why, oh why, do you wish to be dead?"
 Mar 2015 unwritten
Just Melz
The green and the gold
Worth more than you are ever told
But you're not so bold
sitting, waiting, praying
hours on end
all worth it when u land the big one
 Mar 2015 unwritten
Pdub
Dried Up
 Mar 2015 unwritten
Pdub
How shall I move forward
When I'm neither heartbroken
Nor happy?

*The ink that poured from my soul
Has been stolen by this drought.
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