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 Feb 2014
marina
when i was a kid, i pretended i could
breathe underwater so that if i was
ever caught in a wave for too long
i wouldn't panic- but now my hands are
shaking and i can feel my lungs getting tight
and my ear drums are starting to pound, and
these ceilings are
crushing
me.
 Feb 2014
brooke
in this dream I was running down
a thinning subway and the people
grew in numbers, inflating until I
was pressed against the wet brick
when I climbed out and lost my
shoe, stood atop the winding
corridor and realized that
they were all people I
knew, each of them a
stacked book lining a
spiral all the way  
down, going no
where in
particular.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Feb 2014
Amanda Stoddard
there's something about sadness,
that's just so comforting.
and something about madness,
that's just so safe.
and i'm not sure why
but my mind has been poisoned
by negativity and resentment.

The flood of emotion
that drowns me in my sorrows
is a crutch and a curse
and every instance
is a reason to feel hatred
and sadness and rebellion.

it's hard to stay sane
when everything
and everyone
changes almost instantly
and consistency is foreign.

my lack of faith
comes from my overwhelming
fear of being left alone and cold
so i find safety in solitude
and i find comfort
in feeling nothing at all.

maybe this is why
everything i write sounds the same
and everything i conjure up
all ends up reverting back
to what once was
and why lines reused
is just my way of clinging
to the only amount of
consistency i can control.

i have never been one
to tell how i feel
or speak of my past
that is buried beneath
the wings i haven't yet
used to fly away from here
because i fear,
happiness
just like sadness
and every other emotion
for that matter
is just a crazy,
illusion
that leaves the bruises
in my mind
and the scars
on my wrist

because finding an outlet,
that gives you what you need
is almost as rare as
someone understanding you.

and the blood spilling from your veins
is temporary,
the love leaving your lips
is temporary
which is why
in life you will always
somehow, someway
be secondary.
 Feb 2014
Alexis Martin
the rain is making small rivers
in the parking lots and crosswalks
I could drown in one on accident
or get struck by lightning
the thunder is so strong that
a painting could fall off the wall
and crack my head open
this is all so terrifying
I feel small, like a child
(I am insignificant)
-
 Feb 2014
Lyzi Diamond
Instant chapped lip moving from
icicle breath to sweaty sigh in this
storm of memory this blizzard
of foreign hope, not sure of the
goal but **** sure of the end.

Old wood frames where you
make sure to stand when the
ground starts shaking, on the
other side of the room, knees
knocking on hard floor and
trembling fingers gripping
wet splinters, deep cuts.

There's a collective noise,
a chorus of claws and some
babbling basil-soaked bird
is hobbling across the house,
caked in ****** muddy sap.

I'm just organizing myself,
don't you pay any mind.

— The End —