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 Aug 2013
MITCHELL
What keeps me up this late is not a dream.
I'm pacing the corridor,
that desperate zone
between insomnia and insanity,
sanctuary of  eccentrics
and junkies
chasing a word, a fix,
a revelation,
an allegorical mix
of purple haze, logic and similes...

It's a race of attrition,
of addicts incurring
meteoric costs of opportunity
irretrievable,
surreal,
euphoric,
and misunderstood...

like mania

this corridor precedes time
and space

it is the beginning
of faith and exploration

and revelation....

dead poets live here...

~ P (Pablo)
(7/31/2013)
 Jul 2013
augustine
Her eyes red
from rubbing them raw.
Your throbbing head
From straining every muscle in your jaw
crying on your bed.
This is worse than death.
When your dead you have no one.
But it's better than feeling this alone.
Everything you said was a lie.
You didn't even say goodbye...
Why can't i stop crying?
I'm so weak
i crave a eternal dreamless sleep.
 Jul 2013
augustine
She sits by the waves
and counts the ways
she could taste death's lips.
Partly because she misses you too much.
Death can be such a lovely thought.
 Jul 2013
Jennifer Schwab
Late at night I lie with blinds drawn back
Night drifts just beyond a thin piece of glass,
it drifts too far from reach.
I wish I were outside in it, but watch it I will.
Street lights guide empty roads, impatient, they wait for the air of morning.
I am for once alone in an undisturbed solitude.

Each ticking moment,
from the peaking hour of our brightest stars to the resting streetlights and pale blue air,
Runs through me indefatigable.  
Slowly I turn into a new person as the people and day fade to nothing
Slowly I become more.

The moon cascades light into my room,
it presses its face close to the glass
Both present we are alone.

I consciously listen as my mind wanders.
I am still here, not dreaming.
It is at the death of each day,
far past midnight, words drip onto the white page.
They are not shy nor afraid of displaying their truth.
The moon is empty of judgement.

When the brisk daylight arrives I will cover myself.
When the birds songs ring through dawn
I begin dying again among the life of everything.

But for now in the depth of silence and stillness,
I shall bare myself.
For the night invites such comforting warmth,
I unclothe my thoughts
For the night invites such comforting warmth,
I do not sleep.
 Jun 2013
Samuel
As if sunshine and rain got
together to play a trick on poor
cloud
 Jun 2013
Jemimah
We crave the approval of existence
- 'tis the most intimate longing of man
                              
what can satisfy [this void of desire]?
     *only the whisper of God.
His Love fills the caverns of our souls
 Jun 2013
MRR
Imagine a nightmare
While you're awake.

Imagine a knife's edge
With a ghost at the hilt.

Imagine a death
Not instantaneous.

— The End —