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 Jun 2013 Baylee
Jessie
I know that this is wrong, our bodies intertwined so;
But when my leg touches your leg,
And your leg touches my leg,
Even the sharpest strike of lightning could in no way
Ignite the fire that the friction of our skin creates.
Why must there be only twelve numbers on the clock?
For our time of now has been cut short, snipped by
The scissors of Fate, and only one thread remains to determine
If we shall ever meet again.

The tousled blanket and the pillow falling off the bed
Are the only remaining evidence of our existence;
Yet when I make the bed at dawn,
I will flatten the sheets,
I will straighten the pillows,
and I will bid you goodbye.
And as I sit here alone, the door locked until time persists,
I remember the volcanic essence of our nights together -
The way your touch sends shivers down my spine -
And the whiteness of your eyes coming at me from the darkness of your face.

Now that we have parted and the holy aura from our bodies gone,
My brain can only feel the chemicals left by your aroma.
Nothing remains but the memory of scorching breaths and sticky arms
As well as the feeling of your smooth bicep lying across my bare chest -
The story of two star-crossed lovers with a finale seemingly as tragic.
 Jun 2013 Baylee
Nik Stlitslempur
Closing my eyes, drifting to sleep
Count as they jump, jumping white sheep
At mind’s edge I stand, then take my leap
Into the abyss, I’m falling so deep

Float from the sky, touch down into sand.
Dancing, singing, they ask me to play
Shrug my shoulders and reach out my hand
My worries from life then fade away

We dance on the beach, me and those sheep
Dancing and laughing, now sound asleep
A presence nearby, keeping at bay
Think nothing of it, just dance and play.

The sun’s always rising, in this strange land
The clouds making shapes and the trees are all purple.
Playful white sheep still dance in the sand
Sudden feelings of dread fill me, something is wrong.

The presence draws closer, my thoughts become darker
Turned to the sheep, I look for similar feelings
But their cute white sheep faces have all disappeared
In unison they stop dancing, turn and glare.
From tiny sheep faces, just sunken red eyes remain
They notice me noticing, “It’s not nice to stare”
Whipping my head ‘round, the presence stands there
A being so dark, I can’t make out what it is

My breathing becomes heavier, a rotten smell comes from his
“You shouldn’t have come” he says “You shouldn’t be here”
Before I could run, a flash of horror filled my mind
Every bad thing I’ve done and been victim of.

“You came to my world seeking dance with the fauna,
An escape from your problems, the pains, the trauma.
But you cannot escape, for I am the window of pain,
Forcing all to look through, and you won’t get my pity,
Nor will I feign your disdain, for now you see,
This is my domain.”

The horrors from life swirled violently through my mind.
Shaking my head, I cry “Please take me home!”
But the presence just laughs
And the demon-eyed sheep laugh
And they laugh
Laughing like school children
In fact, exactly so…


Lift my head from my desk, then I see
Room full of students, laughing at me.
Teacher approached, “XXXXX, you were snoring.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. This lesson is boring.”
 Jun 2013 Baylee
Nik Stlitslempur
Streams of people pass.
Do they see me? Are they blind?
Just a shoreside stone.
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