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I breached the bridge
Between your *******.
Find me there.*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Draft.
 Apr 2015 Anna Skinner
NV
i'm telling you.
the clouds were meant for the ground.
but they hung themselves.
The moon shines a cool blue tonight
as we entwine our fingers, laying on the baseball field
beneath diamond heavens. We lie
in silence, in the moments when the Universe reveals
itself, and contemplate the distances between one celestial body to
another, the space between
us growing as I turn south
to find Orion while you seek Cassiopeia in the north.

Shooting stars cross the sky, and we wish separately on dead
stars and dead dreams, lights already grown red and extinguished
as we whisper in the dark, passing
between phases.

And in the end we're all left searching.
 Feb 2015 Anna Skinner
Eva Louise
Your father’s belt hugs tightly to your arm. You twirl the syringe between your fingers, a little container with a world inside. You take a deep breath, and ****** the needle into the blossoming  purple flower on your arm. You wince at the pain, but the ***** feels like a kiss. Your finger slips the plunger into the syringe, and you feel the cool liquid glide into your bloodstream. With the syringe still in your grasp, the pillows catch you in their embrace as your body crashes in a heap. Weakness floods your body; washing into your legs, hips, torso, arms, and finally your hands, as your fingers unfold from around the syringe. It rolls off your hand and onto the ground. You do not hear a clatter. Limply, you throw yourself onto your back and stare at the white ceiling; it shifts as your eyes lose focus. Silence consumes your ears. A smile slides onto your face; your problems melt away. The bed disappears from under you. You’re floating; you’re flying; you’re invincible. You laugh. You laugh until tears run down your face. Your crazed barks echo in your small room. Untouchable freedom projects from every pore. Nothing matters right now, except this euphoria running through your veins. You’re flying head first through space; speeding past cartoon planets. Good god, you’re flying, you’re flying. You’re dying. You’re flying
The room starts to flood back into focus. You desperately claw at your freedom as it slips away from you. You try to dispel the oncoming reality, but it’s inevitable. Reality punches you in the jaw. Your head screams with static and your arm aches. Worries creep back into the crevices of your mind: parents, school, friends, grades, college. It overwhelms you; panic fills your bloodstream. Your spine arches sharply as you scream from the pit of your stomach. This is real. This is real. You are no longer flying, or in paradise, or happy. You curl up in a ball and begin to cry.  You are nothing more than a lost child, alone and scared
something i wrote a long long long time ago, sorry if it *****
 Feb 2015 Anna Skinner
Onoma
Tearing through bodies to refresh one...
a raw timetable end to end.
Verily said unto--
sleeper-words activated as
healing agents.
The milky bulbs of elbows
protract, as hands cradle
the back of a head.
The newfangled dreamer
has caught a way.
Somehow has given him/her
someway--an incendiary
stronghold lives to praise this:
one-more-time.
The menagerie of him/her is
rounded up and rounded off...
their flickering numbers profess
animalia half to hell, half to heaven.
A tilt to left or right to actuate
more or less of.
As in so being lorded over by
what passes their perimeters...
hands a hell, a hell--a heaven,
a heaven.
For what's astray passes through
itself in stages...tearing through
bodies to refresh one...a raw timetable
end to end.
Moment of overexposure compounded...
the sleek pulp draped over the
shoulder of night and day.
 Feb 2015 Anna Skinner
Cate
I've noticed the way
Your smiles have slowly grown
From the polite crinkles you create
For strangers in unsettling situations
To a happy twinkle
and a flash of your teeth
In the pauses
Of inquiring speech.

I wouldn't mind
If you came to visit
Every day this week.

C.e.M. 2.20.15
I started the process of memorizing you today

35 freckles on your right shoulder and a break in the cartilage on your right ear near the top was as far as I got

I think even if I have 100 more years in your arms, I'll never know how many individual hairs you have on your chin or why you sound like you're dying when you sleep

What an exciting thought
To never know all of you

I don't know if your I love you means what it means for me
Someday maybe I will

Or maybe I'll spend my whole life trying
To hear all your thoughts behind
the words
I love you
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