Ben: Favorites

Apr 2012 Ben

Sarah Wilson

She asked me to tell her story for you all today.
I wanted to say no, but how do you say no to a dead girl?
I didn’t think you could, either.
So here I am.

But I've been thinking- we all know her story.
You’ve been fed her story by her caring, devoted parents.
So I’m going to tell you my story.

I was with her every step of the way.
[Except when it mattered, except for at the end.]
I was there when her caring, devoted parents called her a liar,
called her a thief, and called her a ****.
[Then lovingly announced it was a character building exercise. ]

I was there when instead of getting help for their daughter
as she repeatedly cut and destroyed her body,
they praised her, bought her new razorblades,
picked up her various painkillers.

Oh yes, her parents are real gems,
ladies and gentlemen.
They were very involved in Jamie’s life.
Always made sure she had
everything she wanted.

You know what?
They spoiled her to death.

Oh, too soon for suicide humor?
My apologies. I guess I’m bitter.
The last thing I need to say is,
Jamie wanted me to thank you all.

She wanted to thank you all for letting her go.

Apr 2012 Ben

a most candid picture of lust and suicide.

Apr 2012 Ben

Sarah Wilson

a most candid picture of lust and suicide.

it's been eight months already
and i could still trace the scars
that danced up your arms as
your hands danced across
my body.

it's been eight months already
and although i hardly knew you
your every kiss breathed life back
into me.

it's been eight months already
and i still don't know what
i was looking for but i found it
in the rise and fall of
our bodies.

it's been eight months already
since you picked up my pieces
and melted them together with
the heat and the passion i saw
in you.

thank you, stranger, for saving me
from myself.

forgive any errors, i'll fix them when i'm not on my phone.

jamie approves.

Apr 2012 Ben

Razors and Icicles

Apr 2012 Ben

Beth C

Razors and Icicles

I think
even the sun must die
a little, every day
when it rises

To face you
and hear you laugh
not like the world
is ending,
but that it never
existed at all.

And I think,
sometimes,
that razors
and icicles
and empty midnight beaches
have nothing on you.

Mar 2012 Ben

Just a Friend

Mar 2012 Ben

Troy Urbalejo

Just a Friend

This someone is sleeping, she is always sleeping so lonely.
She dreams about the faces of those who made her laugh so loudly.
She smells the summer but hopes for winter when.
She dreams about the man who helps her understand.
All the right things, her world so loving.
Like yellow daisey flying in her soft souls breeze.

She trys to break but can only bend.
She hates her heart and how its so big and open.
She feels like a roller coaster going at high speeds.
Just wants to feel butterflies and lavender cream.
And shes someone you can't label, she isn't just a friend.

Shes scared for love cause of all the fools who left her behind.
Much to scared of hope being hurt to many times.
And she's not able to forget, the past but won't stop giving love.
Intell she has found a reason to never give it up.

Mar 2012 Ben

Dandelions in Heart Boxes

Mar 2012 Ben

Kyla

Dandelions in Heart Boxes

One might say I loved you.

Sandboxes and puppy paw print tires
is what I remember of you.
Long hot summers spent splashing knee deep in plastic pools.
Cold winters spend building forts,
bundled up so tightly we could spend hours out there.

I used to sit at your fence and have conversations with your dog,
convinced he was the only one who understood me.

King,
Of the backyard you were.
I,
was your queen.

Mar 2012 Ben

I don't dream of the sound of her cracking rib bones anymore

Mar 2012 Ben

Odi

I don't dream of the sound of her cracking rib bones anymore

When I have fevers
I grow *****
I say things like "Quit your ******* whining."
Or "You're such a **** dad."
When my skin burns
And my pores feel like they're on fire
from the inside
I say things that rhyme with the truth
Resemble a certain meaning
unfiltered
I don't make it sound melodious
Or tedious
Its factual
and im ballsy

I talk to walls about that crackhead on the fifth floor
Who I hear talks to herself at night
Or is it her baby girl one that was taken away
Her words are mumbles that resemble a feeling I cant quite name
I tell the walls they're too ****** thin
they should eat something
Fatten up or they'll end up like my sister
when I have a fever I don't remember the sound of her cracking rib bones
under my useless hands
I don't dream about CPR

Sometimes I hear children crying; the floor up above me
And If I listen really hard they aren't really crying, they're laughing so hard
And the man that is yelling he isn't really yelling hes playing peekaboo with his three
laughing
squealing
children and I smile
I am delirious
The truth is delirious
We are all ******* delirious
and drugged up
and ****** up
I laugh
It is one endless fever after another
And all the truth I think I've spoken
It was just a dream
The delirious kind
I laugh