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 Dec 2015 cass
Bo Burnham
"Well...,"
              she said, unwell.
"Well... surely...,"
              she continued, unwell, unsure.
"Listen," he said.
              But nothing.
              Just some rain tapping a window out of boredom.
 Dec 2015 cass
Bo Burnham
I said no to drugs once.
I looked a bag of **** right in the face
and, like a loving but firm father,
I said, "No."
I was really high.
 Dec 2015 cass
Bo Burnham
Hanged
 Dec 2015 cass
Bo Burnham
I hung myself today. Hanged? Whatever, point is I hanged myself today and I'm still hanging.

I feel fine. Just bored. I keep hoping that someone will come home and cut me down but then I keep remembering that if i knew someone like that I wouldn't be up here. Bit ironic, right? Or is that not ironic? I read somewhere that, like, anything funny is, in some way, ironic. But I don't know if it's funny or not. I don't think my brain owns "funny," you know?

I feel taller. I like that.

I've never been away from my shadow for this long. It had always clung to my feet, parting momentarily for a quick dive into the swimming pool. But never for five hours. I like it. There's three feet of space between my two and the floor.

I wanted something this morning. I may be stuck. But at least I'm three feet closer to it.
I wanted the book to engage a wide variety of tones and feelings – from seriousness to silliness and from elation to melancholy. This particular poem is from the perspective of a man who has just hanged himself. I thought it was interesting to write a poem from the perspective of someone who has just hanged himself and is pretty nonchalant about it. That someone is /not me/, and that’s half the fun of writing – being able to put yourself in foreign situations and see things from others’ perspectives (and to empathize with them). The poem is definitely dark and a little unsettling but the page before this was a poem about flies buzzing around dog poo. The world is full of dark and light and I just wanted the book to reflect that :)
 Nov 2015 cass
Aditi
About you
 Nov 2015 cass
Aditi
All they need to know
About you
Is the days I was with you
I did not write
I did not have to quiet
The tumultuous thoughts
Because you were the calm
Eye
Of all my hurricane

When most anonymous heart beats
Were busy ruining themselves
You were keeping mine safe
Inside your heart.

All they need to know
Is sometimes when you opened your eyes after your daily prayer
I could see the gateway to all the churches
I never bothered to go
They made a caphir like me
Believe in heaven.

When most of the times I was sure
Earth was the purgatory
If there was ever such a thing
And how I deserved it.


All they need to know about you
Is how when you touched me
It felt like a thousand dandelions
Being touched by a breeze
So rejuvenating
Drifting to a semi lucid reality.

Your love crossing all the boundaries
Leading me to a place
Far away from the differentiation of wrong and right.


All they need to know about you;
I hope to keep turning it into poetry.
I'm, still, all about you.
 May 2015 cass
Michelle E Alba
I'm pretty sure all poetry has left me.
As if it just packed up and hit the road.
Like my words no longer dance or sing.
Like they have forgotten all melodies.
Assimilated tone deafness.
Compound letdowns retract vulnerabilities.
Brick walls and leather skin replace possibilities.
Reckless love and whimsical fantasies,
Replaced by ***** diapers and piles of laundry.
Consonants and vowels blend to mush.
Aches and accomplishments are one in the same.
All of my agony has turned to apathy,
And I wonder.
How could I let poetry walk away from me?
How have I become so broken that I can no longer write?
Words have no ability to woe me.
Vocabulary is no longer my saving grace.
Void of creativity.
Like somehow life has gotten too messy for me to express.
Series of catastrophes and celebrations run together.
And I feel lost.
And I feel blessed.
But oh so empty.
Poetry come back to me.
 May 2015 cass
Steele
You and I,
We got high
together at the seven eleven at seventeen,
and listened to Fall Out Boy as he sang ironic one liners.
And we'd argue about what it would mean; too high to believe
the other was right, and then laughed at passing cars.

We stumbled to the graveyard and told ghost stories with wine,
and whiled away the hours dreaming of knights and dragons
in crystal towers far away across fable and time. I'd lift my proverbial flagon,
and you'd ****** it away, and whisper
"What am I
to you?" So sudden, and I was too high to answer it right at the time.
I stumbled. I mumbled. My words were all jumbled, and all that came out was:
"Thou art mine friend." Kind of lame, that word at the end. But I ended the sentence
With a laugh. I didn't know you were serious...
But...
I should have cut a word from the statement. Because if I was being serious too,
I'd have whispered back "Thou art mine."

In my mind, I relive the moment over again and again,
before you left and stumbled off into the dark,
I say "You are my princess, I'm your knight."
I say "When it's all ****** up, you make it all right."
I say all the right things and it culminates in a kiss by starlight,
but I mumbled,
words jumbled,
And you took the bottle of wine with you as you stumbled
alone into the dark till it took you away from my sight.

That night I sat alone and soliloquised what I didn't say right.
 May 2015 cass
L
15w
 May 2015 cass
L
15w
I am falling at your feet,
clinging to the warmth of
your skin and stability
**** I am falling for you

**
Leigh
 May 2015 cass
Danielle Shorr
Scent
 May 2015 cass
Danielle Shorr
I fell asleep at 6 a.m. and woke to find
that my bed smells like someone new-
I don't know where you are tonight

His lips kissed me like they were
looking for a light switch in the dark-
I don't know if you think of me at late hours

I pushed him back slightly and he asked
if everything was okay and I said yes-
I don't tell him where my thoughts are

Tired, I'm tired, that's my excuse for
losing myself when I'm with a stranger-
I don't always know how to find my way back

I'm trying, see I am, really but
there's a reason I kept coming to you so easily-
I don't know how to find familiar in someone new

The scent of my attempts to move on is
making me sick and I can't do much about it-
I don't know how to get you here again

I stayed up until 6 a.m. with him when really
you're the only one worth losing sleep over-
I don't know if that means you're winning

I don't know where you are tonight-
I don't know if I want to know
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