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 Jan 2015 Alexis Peterson
MKF
She was a girl bogged down
Stuck in a mire
When she climbed she fell
She couldn't get any higher
But when she falls she lands
Like a bird on a wire
Cause she's got something within her
Within her there's fire
So she cut her ties
She's never coming back
She's riding her train
To the end of its track
Where she knows no one
Not a Jill or a Jack
And no one
Knows what she lacks
But with no destination
She's stuck wandering
No visible future
She's stuck pondering
About the potential
She's busy squandering
So without any answers
She's stuck wondering
These wounds won't seem to heal, the pain it stays, it hurts just to feel. Just for a moment, I pray to be numb and have a false sense of what I've become. Broken and bruised, scars that won't heal, building caskets for tears from all these long years. Try again tomorrow, I hear my self say, but it's void when every day is exactly the same.
 Jan 2014 Alexis Peterson
Mikaila
I don't have hope.
I don't do hope.
I have calm. Calm is better.
I have a knowledge from somewhere in my bones that it will be okay.
That even if everything I've spent all this time worrying about actually happens,
I'll be alright.
It may not be pretty,
And it may not be the happiness I long for,
But whatever happens to me, I know I will survive it.
And that gives the girl who spends much too much time stepping back and giving others what they ask for a peculiar edge:
When everything that I fear has happened,
And I should be broken,
That is always when I stand the tallest, and let pride put steel in my spine.
I don't have a secret weapon,
I am a secret weapon.
Because although I long to be content, I was made to be tested.

And whether I like it or not, I test well.
All the lies prevailed
and the love sailed
what was left in all the fire
money, judgment, and other desires
To this day I still can't say if all the memories found a way
to reveal the deception, the crime, the legal tricks
vitamins switched with other picks
rich friends playing hurtful man games
loyal wife played seeking other names
a father true, a husband loyal and all commitments she vowed to were spoiled
little ones asked to see
when money, motherhood and friends mislead
someday integrity will be seen by all
in the meantime please don't fall
I love you and sometimes without a rhyme but that's all I need that's just fine.
A cool chill flows through my veins,
Warm breathe becomes a billow of smoke in the icy air.
Sharpe, Stinging breezes chap my cheeks and lips.
Old man winter has moved in, removed all heat from the earth and covered the ground with a blanket of white.
The silence of the morning fills all space like an abandoned ghost town
No living creature  utters a sound
Christmas lights shower the night with hope and happiness
Bringing the joy and innocence of childhood to every aging heart
The smell of pine brings back memories of family and fiends
Reminders of human kindness,
The core of what this life is ment to be
A full moon overhead watching over this world giving life to every shadow.
"You killed a man"
They say over and over
In his head
"You killed a man."
They repeat to him
Until he knows they cannot
Be wrong.

He walks the streets
wondering if the eyes that glance him over
while they walk on by
know that on average
a person walks past a murderer
36 times
in their life.
"You killed a man"
He expects one of them to scream.

She is different
He knows this from they day they first meet
The voices go quiet
Almost allowing him to sleep.

He takes her on dates,
tells her
his hopes and dreams
though it is not until the night
they decide to combine their resources
in a cramped damp apartment
with a view of the sunset against the skyline
that he decides to tell her
the words that once were on
replay
inside his mind.

"I killed a man."
He whispers to her.
His voice bright
In direct contrast to the darkness
of the night.

As his hands tap the covers
Twice then once then twice again.

Her eyes caress him,
touching him in ways he knows can not be done
with hands
as he repeats
"I killed a man."
His eyes fixed on the ceiling,
Counting the tiles
To be sure
that 101
has not changed to 102
and the stain in the 81'st hasn't shifted to 22'nd.

He jumps at the feeling of her touch

Voice sharp
Hands soft.
"Tell me."
The demand
so quiet
he wonders if it was just the sound
of settling dust.

He turns to her,
Finds the question in her eyes.
It's a drastic change
from the haunted look he expected
if only to reflect
what he sees in the mirror every day.

"I killed a man." He says once again,
For the millionth time in his life
though only
the third
outside of his head.

Her fingers trace his face.
Thumb running across his lips.
She opens her mouth,
and quietly whispers the words he never dared to
even consider a possibility

"They were wrong."
2.0 - the alternate ending.
The words left altogether.

Thoughts and feelings, memories divided. 
Discrepancies voluntary.
Deceit the ring

Around the foundling’s mare, to ride the darkness 

Of the approaching storm.
Thunder heads rolling 

Behind angry cloud banks.
Spitting sparks. 

Angry, 

Divisive showers.

The universe showed me once how to smile despite myself. 

A garden amongst stone.
An illumination in the downpour. 

I looked again today and history became the mirror. 

The reflection of a purpose restrained.
Less crafted 

Than yielded, of the moment, in relativity. 


I feel the blankness of shock.
I feel the depth of the night 

Spent away from the one I love. 

And yet I crackle with life. 



Reset
He's as straight as a curved line
Or so we speculate, or so he denies
A thousand signs, a million hints
Never as refreshing as an evening mint

He praises the men who live in the screen
Projected in front for all to be seen
“Is he attracted?” we ask
“Or is he just trying to bring joy so that his sadness will be masked?”

Deeper and deeper the bird plunges
Smaller and smaller the sky gets
His limbs flow and soon, suffocated
The days of his junk is dated

A sudden movement, always an explosion
Always seems intoxicated by a freak potion
Unnecessary but not always unwanted
But still every inch of his body is demented

His wretchedness is our pleasure
The distance between his pain and our joy cannot be measured
I say, everything in the universe is against him
We say, his very existence is sticky and dim

Angry mom
Uncleaned room
Missing chair
Math grade in doom

Lost books
Crossed and shaky legs
Blemished looks
Intermediate pad in despair

Rotten eggs
Sudden rain
Dancing legs
Junk in pain

Moldy bread
Virused usb
Relationship with girlfriend now dead
Showing off his bare body

Humongous hands
Side comments
Life never bland
But forever in lament

Alas, I bombarded him with questions
He states that he feels no hatred is most situations
Sometimes we wish that his life would change
But that would make our own very strange
Bird = v neck
Sky = skinny jeans

Here's a poem that I wrote back in 9th grade about the 3rd weirdest guy in my class. I'm sorry that I wrote this poem, Julio Laforteza. Gosh I'm so mean.
I’m always afraid you’re gonna kiss me in the elevator
you ask me out to lunch and I always think you mean it
we just wind up at the nearest mock irish dive
every bartender in midtown knows your name
even when it’s swarmed by the christmas crowd
they always point to you, give a nod and laugh
we pull up stools in the mid day snow
my nose whines over the **** floors
we order warm whiskeys and work on the crossword puzzle
you say my company is charming but
you’ve never asked me a single question
and your eyes are always on the room
but when everythings still and no women are near
sometimes you’ll stop on mine
I take your picture in the snow
remember the morning I left and startled you with an exiting touch
your cheek painted with drool
I couldn’t sleep the night I stayed
so I scribbled neil young quotes on your chalkboard walls
listened to you snore, waited for the sun
walked through stuytown like I’ve lived there all my life
boarded a train back to the man who loves me
prayed both of you never care too much
and that I start soon
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