Did you lose me?
Are you too busy?
Am I just so unimportant
That you'll toss me to the back burner
Like a failed dish?
Something you're done with.
I'm finished,
You're out of focus.
Focusing on the ones on their knees,
The ones who sing, and truly believe.
I thought you were accepting,
So why won't you accept me?
Did you lose me?
Are you too busy?
Am I just so unimportant
That you overlooked my name on the list?
Was it ever even there, written clearly in print-
Or cursive?
Maybe your thumb smudged me off,
It's possible that you erased me
And just ignore all of my calls.
It's not your fault,
I know it's mine with this filthy mind
And skin that crawls with sin, like parasites.
I'm sorry for killing your son-
I'm sorry I ****** him every night,
I want to be forgiven,
To turn all of my wrongs to rights.
I want to retrieve the innocence
You let life, so cruelly take;
Why then, was I not saved?
Was I a child so depraved?
Did you lose me?
Were you too busy?
Was I so unimportant
That you let him have his way?
Or is it just a part of this play?
Not everyone gets the chance
To see your face,
To feel your grace,
And find the path that leads your way.

You're not my father
And I think of you as cancer,
But I'll keep on calling
Hoping one day you'll answer.

-SLuR

In high school, at my school
if it's a beauty race, I'm losing.

If puberty has gotten to me,
I'm ******* out of reproducing.

They own plain, pretty faces
while I do not.

Whatever, shut up
I'll just adopt.

i once dated a scientist                                                       i once dated a writer
who tore me to pieces                                               who confused me beyond
dissecting every piece                                           reason and hesitantly let me
of my heart and of my                                                  study her heart and her
mind. i am a writer and                                            mind. i am a scientist and
my mind does not                                                                   her mind is full of
function the same way                                                                     demons and
and my heart is not                                                       her heart pumps words
reliant on the same                                                             instead of blood. she
thing that his is. he                                         used to spend days reliving and
couldn't find the beauty                                      rewriting her past to make it
in spending hours                                                   beautiful knowing it'd take
making messes just                                          hours to clean herself up again
to clean them up but                                              but i'll never forget the way
i found beauty in                                                      she dissected me just with
his brown eyes.                                                                               her blue eyes.

A collaboration between SG Holter and Elisa Maria Argiro

Hesitating here, silent edge of this dark forest,
I look beyond me, warm in the white fog.
Seeing your heart, now residing deep within
the ancient wood, is to know it is blessed, loved.

Silver tongue resting now in golden silence.
Palms of soul upon moss and brittle bark.
Animal song; scent of beasts approaching unafraid.
Fierce peace. The opposite of a machine.

In the rising sap of silent trees around us,
our deeply beating pulses listen, dance,
smiling kisses at the shining stars, new planets.
Eyes open, anima and animus press tightly
And distance is no more.

"What language is Yours,"
I ask the still growing giants of
Green.
"Silence and its sister tongues
Such as leaves dancing with the
Breeze," they reply within the
Gap between soft sounds and
Softer ones.
So we speak through breaths
Exchanged, of nothing.
Two souls afloat upon the stream
Of Union with All.
What is Cosmos,
But "home"?
Never a visitor.
Never a stranger.
Nowhere has anyone ever been
Lost, or
Away.*

Humming your essence into my veins,
in tune with the wordless languages
of green lives and wind, listening
among delicate flowers, sleeping here
on the forest floor, wakeful and awaiting
the next sound of your voiceless voice,
wind words blowing
through my long, curling hair,
feeling the intention of your
untouched touch,
at home, just being.