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 Jun 2017
Macy Wieland
I don't believe in love
the same way I don't believe in god
how could I put my faith in something I can't hold in the palm of my hand?
maybe that's why I got so tired of my hands always coming up empty when I tried to grasp the idea of love
I still haven't met God
but I imagine your lips and heaven feel pretty similar
and I still don't know if I put my faith in you
whether I should call it love or religion
but I do know that if love is real
it can be molded into the shape of the devil’s smile
and I've yet to learn the difference between your hands and hell
because even burning love leaves behind oozing blisters
and I've yet to find a saving grace to stick around to mend my wounds
 Mar 2014
melodie foley
if by senior year of high school
you are tired of your life
make mountains out of mole hills
cut ties with your best friend
because your ex nothing
kissed her on new years
blame them both
don't speak until a year later
tell him you made him
he would be nothing without you
fall for your friends
because you know it will never work
be needy
go to prom by yourself
pretend to rock it
then cry in your grandmas minivan before you leave
burn bridges with your friend group
for no good reason
other than
by senior year you are tired with your life
choose your college entirely on a guy
make sure he is boring
mediocre
and smells of trouble and mental illness
spend all summer trying to make him less boring
convince yourself he is perfect
move twelve hours away
because you don't want to know anyone
hate your roommate
but don't ever give her a chance
get way too comfortable with the boring boy
feel superior
because you're smarter
and you've partied more
steal adderall from the party
because that makes you look cool
give him all of you
mind and body
by that I mean
english papers and shower ***
ignore the signs that he's lost interest
force yourself on him anyway
cry to your friends back home when you're drunk
cry because you are twelve hours away
drink because you are twelve hours away
smoke to stop crying
smoke to stop drinking
don't eat anything
always take the stairs
walk the long way to class
never stop moving
******* are not enough to force up your self-pity
three fingers makes it a little easier
don't look at yourself in the mirror
you are still not good enough for the boring boy
take the blame when he snitches on you
do not fight for yourself
sleep with him again anyway
tell yourself "there is no sin too great"
this is what you wanted
because by senior year you were tired of your life
 Mar 2014
JDK
Sometimes, when I say your name,
you wince.
(I want to force you into a corner and press up against you)
Your face in a grimace;
you cringe,
(I want to ravage you savagely)
as if you're in pain.
(I want to turn into sand and bury you alive)
(I want to take these two hands and tear you apart)
It's quite rude, really,
(I want to bite off your lips and devour your heart)
but I don't hold it against you.
It seems involuntary.
(I want to explode on you then swallow what's left)
I think there might be something wrong with you.
(I want to **** all the life right out of your breath)
More than anything though,
(I want to turn into a river and drown you in the flood)
I'd like to know
(I want to spread through your body, bones, and blood)
why.
You give me nightmares
 Mar 2014
Charles Barnett
I threw a little funeral for us.
Gathered our things.
Photographs and poems.
Your bra and tinfoil and straws.
All tucked tightly in a little oak box
lined with all my hopes and dreams.
And I buried them in the backyard.
 Mar 2014
Samantha
Boys don't like girls like me

Boys don't like girls
With frizzy hair
And red velvet tongues

Boys don't like girls
Who wear heavy boots
And leather jackets a size too big
With pins pushed through the fabric
Declaring their beliefs
Like picket signs

Boys don't like girls
With outie belly buttons

Boys don't like girls
Who shop in the men's section
At thrift stores

Boys don't like girls
Who shut themselves in ivory towers
And refuse to let down their hair
Because they're too afraid

Boys don't like girls
Who talk to plants

Boys don't like girls
Who pick the pickles off
Of their cheeseburger because
They believe its the best part
And you always save the best for last

Boys don't like girls
Who carry trauma on their backs like boulders

Boys don't like girls
Who don't know how to kiss
Without leaving
Blood stains on your lips

Boys don't like girls
Who write love poems for themselves

Who practice archery and witchcraft
Because it makes them feel stronger

Who dance in their kitchen
To the music of popping popcorn

Who shy away from touch
Because to them it feels like acid

Who have stretch marks and cellulite

Who'd rather stay at home with the dog
Than go to that party

Who have ice in their soul

Boys don't like girls like me
And I'm trying to be ok with that
 Mar 2014
Theia Gwen
The more I talk to God,
The more I think he's not really listening
The more bad thoughts I have,
The more the ugly truth is leaving me wondering
The more I read the bible,
The more I realize I don't believe a word it says
The more I question,
The more secrets I can't confess
The more narrow minded my mother is,
The more she lets the light in so I can see
The more times I drink "the blood of Christ"
The more it feels like drinking the Kool Aid to me
I'm not trying to start a religious debate, so if you think you can change my mind, please don't bother trying. If you're offended by this, I didn't force you to read it and these are just my views. If you don't understand the last line, it's a reference to Jonestown.
 Mar 2014
Gwen Johnson
Some wear
nooses as necklaces
And scars as bracelets
But the deeper the scars
the harder to erase them
But I on the other hand
Take all the pain in
Dying from this suffocation
But my pain is slowly erasing
mostly comes with the lack of sleeping
And if you see a smile on my face I mean it
 Mar 2014
Bec Miller
I was a child
and you
9 years my senior
when you invited me
into your bed.

And I stayed,
but only to sleep
and you understood
and held me
like a father holds
his daughter.

And as time passed
I did more in your bed
than just sleep
and at the moment,
it felt right.

But now I see-

It wasn't.
I was searching
for my beloved father
in the corners of this town
a country away from him
and you were clinging
to the youth
you were too old to own.

And we found each other
and momentarily
I was happy
until one day I realized
you spoke down to me
like a child
and offered the
unsolicited advice
of a worried parent.

And then I was the worried one.
I will write his story until I can sleep again, until his smell is washed clean from my memory and I can feel assured that his name will never show up on my caller ID again because one father, *my* father, is enough.
 Feb 2014
wounded words
Don't ask me why my hands are shaking when
the rain just put out the last
of my cigarettes and i can't find my
keys because i misplaced them while looking for  the dark green lighter i found last night
in the wet grass of the house you said goodbye in.
I'm becoming shorter of breath the
longer I stand here
and these cobblestone skies are closing in on me and God knows this is the last place
I want to be stuck
Pick any house on the map
and I'll tell you what's happened there
and how many beer cans I crumpled
in the musty garage
or how many times my hand has grasped the doorknob of a bedroom
I'll tell you that the yellow house on the left side of 163rd had me laughing until I no longer
thought I was in my body
and I'll tell you that
the yellow house on the left side of 196th
had me wishing I never existed
at all
Inside white walls I took too many hits and
the smoke built up on the walls so thick
I had no choice but to stay
the night in your arms
In between wooden panels and a seemingly impossible staircase you kissed me
up
every
step
and going back down seemed like a sin
i absolutely
could not commit.
By now I am in an all too familiar place
to be feeding off old habits
so I break away from those bitter lips
and I run out to the same woods
I've seen a million times-
And I know that this is what makes this home
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