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Time and risk caught up to you;
Gagged you into silence.
Chasing down the dragon was
Your favorite form of violence.

I saw its markings on your skin;
The gauntness of your eyes
Your searching fingers scratching down
To truth, as you breathed lies

China white won this round, love
You thought you'd always dance
The dragon chose another one
And turned its gaze askance.
Toss a penny my way
The dragon looms before him
With waiting wanting jaws
And with its talon-ed fingertips
It grasps him in its claws.

Together forever, blissfully
They soar up and away
He doesn't know he's falling
As the dragon flies away

And every time he hits the ground
And gasps in disbelief
The pain drags on until the dragon
Offers him relief

One day, wings will carry you
Beyond what you can take
Those soothing claws will let you fall
And crush you when you break.
One release that rivets me
A nature's siren call:
That silver maple melody
That shimmers forth in fall.
Imbittered wind, imbued with hints
Of coming artic air
Sings a solemn, sweeping song
That strips the branches bare.
The treebone fingers snap and sway
In cadence with the breeze
The clatter castinet of leaves
Refrains forth to the trees.
Summer sonnets circling
Like vultures in my head
Take their leave upon the chill
And quiet in it's stead.
The gentle wash, smooth caress
The wind's voice strokes my ear
It twines around my puckered skin
And draws me ever near.
Away, anon, good riddance precious
Spirit of the green
Be off to slumber, underground
Until the coming spring.
 Feb 2018 Autumn Whipple
Amanda S
i am a skeleton,
with crumbling bones
and an irregular beating heart
on the brink of collapsing.

i am an ice cold silhouette
of a girl with sunken eyes
and shriveled lungs
slowly shrinking inside
my concaved chest.

my hips protrude like shards of glass,
shattering onto the gaps between my thighs,
and my collarbones
are sharper than knives,
slicing and dicing
a year off my life everyday.

i am a rotten corpse,
with worn out ribs
and a cracked spine
disintegrating into nothing but
ash and dust.

this is what death looks like.

i am not my own.
an update on how i have felt for the past two months. my eating disorder is consuming me and no one is there to rescue me from death. in 2017, from march to may, i lost approximately 20 pounds because i couldn't control myself from restricting. this year i have managed to lose another 7 pounds and i am terrified that i will end up in a hospital on my death bed. it is definitely frightening thinking about the possibility of dying...
On the Emerald Isle when the brier's green,
Occur strange sights seldom seen.
There's golden rainbows and small clay pipes,
And wee folk dancing every night.

I've heard stories of the leprechaun, but
Before you see 'em they're surely gone.
Yet one green misty night in the brier,
I saw them jigging round the fire.

Sean and I were in green Irish woods,
Gathering shamrocks and just being good.
While searching near a hidden creek,
We heard faint giggles from fifty feet.

Near the giggles grew a small green fire,
Perhaps six inches high - no higher.
We crouched low for a better look,
To our surprise we saw a small green cook.

He wore a tall green hat and pulled-up socks,
And stirred a *** of simmering shamrocks.
Smoke curled from his pipe of clay,
Why, I remember his grin still today.

A band of gold encircled his brim,
My little finger seemed bigger than him.
He had golden buckles and a puggish nose,
Glimmering eyes and curly toes.

Sweet music floated on wings of air,
Fifty-one leprechauns were dancing near.
They passed the poteen with a smack of their lips,
As each in turn took a good Gaelic sip.

Suddenly the gaiety quickly slowed down.
Sure we were that we'd been found.
But they all looked north with reverent faces,
Bowed their heads, stood still in their places.

The banshee's wailing was heard afar,
O'erhead the Death Coach had a full car.
The wee folk respect, it must be said,
Erin's children when they're dead.

Soon flying fast through the green night air,
We spied King Darby hurrying near.
He rode atop his beloved steed,
O'er dales and glens, woods and mead.

His hummingbird lighted on a leaf,
And all the wee folk knelt beneath.
With a golden smile he waved to all,
To officially begin The Leprechaun Ball.

Tiny green fiddlers fiddled their fiddles,
That sounded just like ten thousand giggles.
Dancers danced on mists of green,
Pipers piped, but none were seen.

They danced and ate and passed the ladle,
And kicked up their heels to Irish reels.
We enjoyed the sight late into the night,
But suddenly they gave us a terrible fright.

They saw us cowering behind the trees,
So they cast a spell which made us freeze.
We'd heard what happens to caught spies,
That now are spiders, toads or flies.

Well, old King Darby drew us near,
Sean and I were in a terrible fear.
With a grin and a snap he made us small,
And requested our presence at the Leprechaun Ball.

We reeled and laughed with our new found friends,
'Til the green mist lifted to signal the end.
With a glean in his eye the good King said:
'Tis sure'n the hour yous be abed.

He waved his shillelagh to return our height,
Wished us well and bade good-night.
And as they rode the winds away
I suddenly remembered it was St. Patrick's Day.

I'm sure the lot of you think me a blarney liar, but that night I assure you
I danced 'round a green fire.
Repost for St. Patrick's Day. Erin go bragh! Sliante! and all that blarney.
 May 2016 Autumn Whipple
 May 2016 Autumn Whipple
"My David don't you worry
This cold world is not for you
So rest your head upon me
I have strength to carry you"
- Lazarus by Porcupine Tree*

When the ways of the world
just seem too much.
When everything just doesn't click together
like they should.
Puzzle pieces that incessantly mock
when they don't fit.
When the tears don't soothe like they
promised they would.

When you're up to your neck,
almost fully submerged.
When the fatigue you feel comes from constantly
treading water.
And desperately you try to
keep yourself afloat.
But relentless storms fail not to threaten,
and rip you asunder.

Remember that we're only here on
borrowed time.
And that the everyday's sun will set
after its daily reign of tyranny.
What good are these arms
if they stayed folded shut.
They only invite you fall deep into me.
Now embosomed, I'll carry you to safety.
 May 2016 Autumn Whipple
To lose myself in a foggy drug
And cut a misty dream
To blister from the heat between
The love that is as seems

I taste a little bitter
Salty brows of work prolonged
Don't lead me forth on glaciers cold
If you have no heart I wronged.

Shout forthly from the rooftops
And we'll sing like cats together
For you and I we own the moon
And on it planted fields of heather.

For each other for ourselves
Take me out

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