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 Aug 2012 C Phillips
Tazz
Our lonely path
                 Beneath hollow trees
                           With such dark clouds above
                                              Can we please turn around?
          The lingering of your lips
                                       In the breeze
                                                     Can we please turn around?
                     Your smile makes me cry
                                       The storm is gathering
                                                  The feeling of my skin  
                                 Without your touch is slowly killing me
                                                                 If you grand me one last chance
                                                     One last choice
                                                                   We would turn around
                             Living in our filtered past
 Aug 2012 C Phillips
Ryan Winkler
People say they love the outdoors

But they secretly cheat

Barely saving a can

They cry over pollution.

Though accomplishing every feat

We slowly meet our fate

A slow, damaging defeat

Of the  place we call home.
 Aug 2012 C Phillips
Andrew Jiang
The life lived in a fog
illuminated by different shades of gray
potentiating an explosion of colors
ever vividly fade into our

dreams

alliterating perfectly with
drained, dread, and dreary
bouncing off of the hard shell of reality
ricocheting through this haze we call

life

is meant to be inhaled and exhaled
with symmetrical patterns
tittering on the balance of fate and faith
inching ever closer to the center of mass:

21 grams

light it up and watch it burn
take a puff and free fall
in the high that is lower than
the lowest lows...

failure?

forces the question of whether
the shattered future will reach
its imaginary destination, or
be forever lost in this

twilight

marks the beginning of another tired cycle
weighted down by the burden of success
caught up in the monochrome movie
that parades its credits before the

ending.
I am ashamed to have written this poem.
 Aug 2012 C Phillips
Kelsey P
Hold it together girl,
Just a few more
Hours
Minutes
Seconds...

Now you can let it out.
Go ahead, cry yourself
To the point of choking.

No one's around to hear your sobs,
You're safe here in the dark
Where you can't see anything,
And anything can not see you.

I know he hurt you,
He didn't mean to.
You know he loves you,
Is that why you cry?

Well you'll get over it eventually,
Just be sure to not let them see you like this.
They need to see you strong,
So strong is what I'll be.

You know, people are right,
You'll find another boy
Who loves you just the same.

There are a lot of fish in the ocean,
just wait and see.

Are you done with crying?
Are you now all spent?
Good because someone's coming.

Better hold it together,
And not let them see
The pain behind the smile;
The hurt inside of me.
I miss you so viciously.
I always forget the tragedy of this feeling.

Instinct often overrides common sense,
leading me to craving your lips, your touch, your everything.
But most of all,
I miss your eyes.
Your eyes were the perfect hue of crushed aquamarine and sapphire stones.
Many times those eyes had to observe from the edges my sorrow and despair.
Now, I'm observing those eyes smiling, but I'm no longer the cause.

I made this choice, to leave you,
to leave all of our past behind me.
I crawled out of the ditch that was our relationship,
burying everything six feet under, where I couldn't dig it back up.
Late nights and late night thoughts brought me back to that ditch.
The absence of you has led me back to the days when the smile you have now was because of me.
The absence of you carves out what has been left of my sanity and I terrorize myself with my impeccable recall.

Six days ago, I was on top of the world,
while simultaneously existing beneath a sheet of ice covering a pond.
Without your permission,
I fell back into your aquamarine and sapphire eyes.
I was mesmerized by the remnants of our connection.

But the time has passed for any confessions outside of these words.
Six hundred and fifty miles will soon separate us and put a strain on me.
Because of you and my woven tragedy,
I'm gaining an ache directly below my breast bone.
It's barely there,
not at all visible to the naked eye.
But it's starting to cut just a little close,
getting much nearer to my throat.
It's clogging up with an ache that rivals the one growing just beneath my hard-won shell.

You've made your lasting impression on me and my nervous system.
Your eyes are forever imprinted on the insides of my eyelids,
unable to be rubbed away.

Now I'm just left with this chaotic pain,
and echoes of words screamed into my face.
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