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I didn’t ask for pizza
Or your hands grabbing my throat
But I took both
I took the pizza and you took my body
Tore it apart
Skin from bone
Cheese from crust.
That pizza slice was 5 dollars
I calculated my worth into spare change
My 99-cent curves
My 10-cent fingernails
My 1-dollar cheekbones
5 sections of coins,
Spare nickels-
Spare crust.

I am the leftover money you find at a bus stop,  
In alleyways,
In the pockets of strangers.
You ate me whole and went for seconds.
I let you
Tear my bones apart-
I had nowhere to go.
I am not full
I am just a loose quarter on your sidewalk,
A pile of body parts in your trash can
I am leftovers.
 Sep 2015 Dylan Lane
Sarah Kersey
The summer that a boy took scissors to my clothes was the same summer that the whole state erupted into flames

I watched my hometown burn the same night some stupid teenager decided he could drown out my voice with the sound of his desire

I watched a person from my past become a ghost as the events that had chased me through nightmares became reality again

With a brand new skeleton 

I watched this past haunting become a part of a pattern as the boy with the safety scissors replaced him as the latest incident

Everyone walked outside to inhale the fumes while I sat inside on a brown leather couch with someone attempting to rip his way into my soul
All he got was tattered strings of a girl who had already broke the same way a year and six months ago

I wish I would’ve been able to say no loud enough for him to hear
 Aug 2015 Dylan Lane
Cat Fiske
6:30 a.m. you wake to see,
a lovely girl.

the type a girl,
who comes with the proper set of manners,

but looks like somewhere,
this girl lost her standards.

7:00 a.m. she wakes and sees you.
when you've never had the decency to point out her beauty,

you're so swell thinking about,
how you can get her for a second round,

never calling her beautiful,
or flawless during the round

you act lousy to her,
even though

you were really hoping to do more than to embrace her,
but you soon forget all this,

as you lie in bed,
at 10 a.m.

like the loath you were,

10:30 a.m. your fast asleep,
while she feels the ever growing solitude,

11:00 a.m. she stands in front of the window,
beams of sun on her like the angel in heaven planned it,

as she sips the coffee she made for the both of you,
11:30 a.m. the coffee is cold, and she contemplates her purpose here,

by 1:00 p.m she is wondering if this relationship,
will ever evolve into something more,

1:30 p.m. she realized he doesn't care about her presents,
and wonders if any man would.

2:00 p.m. she fears no one could ever love her,
she's found herself filling notebooks of flaws that are too great to love,

it is now 2:30 p.m. on the dot, and if someone was to walk in on her,
it would be as if she was omit from the world for years..

a minute passes and he walks in,
pours some coffee,

he drinks, and swallows the cold coffee,
puts the mug down,

he looks at her with disgrace almost,
and walks away,

to who cares where, because at 2:36 p.m.,
she wrote one more flaw,

my coffee was cold and he left me again,
and that was enough to tell her she was worthless.

and he sat in his chair,
not once getting up to say,

or tell her,
how he thought she was beautiful,

or the fact he loved her,
communication. complements, and using some words that aren't used too often. I saw a page of words no one used anymore, and flawless and buitiful were the first two, and there were some other interesting words, so I figured why not make it about using theses words, by also making it about two people who didn't communicate, Idk if its a poem or a short story, if someone knows plz tell me.
 Aug 2015 Dylan Lane
Alice Judd
It seems to me that your hands cannot find stable ground
they hover over soil,
not hard enough
they brush past rock
not fertile enough
they race past trees that aren’t high enough
but soar over cliff faces too dangerous to remain there for long
and your hands grow weary as they search
for a type of material with which they can make their dreams concrete

they are afraid to rest for too long
lest they forget the soft touch of grass
or the formidable strength of stone
they wish to remember all at once
While in their quest remembering nothing at all
to hold the earth in their fingerprints
to hold the earth and if not--
then nothing at all.

your hands have become weary, dear writer
let them rest
let them feel the mud between their soft nail beds
do not wash them. There is the world there, in your grasp.
You cannot let it go
even when the earth washes from the lines in your skin
it will leap back into your embrace through the air that you breathe
you were created to be its embodiment
so do not wander
you never have.
 Jul 2015 Dylan Lane
there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve

some eat cake with their eyes
while others are busy planning their demise
one wants to see bones, another, headstones

one could love themselves if they were just 40 pounds thinner
"maybe i'll love myself if i just skip dinner"
the other has no appetite, a battle with calories she does not fight

a battle, rather, with herself
to **** herself or stay in living hell
too preoccupied to care what is on the pantry shelf

there are some who want a thinner waist
and others who just don't like the taste
of food they feel they do not deserve
You know you're only that chipped black nail polish, right?
gelatinous blobs
of my intestines
pile onto the floor
as they pour out
of my esophagus

everything is displayed
neatly and perfectly
waiting to be judged
and accepted
or to be thrown away

millions of blood cells
swim vigorously
looking for an exit

and as I deflate, I wonder
"who's gonna clean up this mess?"
One at a time, we both take off our clothes
But then, as I am taking off my shirt
I accidentally punch you square in the nose
Yelling "Oh no! I'm sorry! Are you hurt?"

We both laugh in that moment, so hard we get sore
We keep laughing and smiling until we can't anymore
Then we roll on our sides as we fall to the floor

Silence falls over us as we take this time to stare
I could look at you for hours while you're caressing my hair
Nothing beats this silly feeling in my gut
I'll love you forever darlin' no matter what
Ten months ago today
You fell. Your head
Smacked and cracked on my surface.
My hard and rough surface.
I made you sleep,
But you didn't wake
For days.
They removed your skull,
They removed your hair.
They removed you from your dignity.
There's nothing that you can do
But wait for the results.
You finally wake up,
You remember a lot,
There's also a lot that you forgot.
Rage, frustration, the "hurry up and wait" system,
Surgery after surgery after surgery after surgery.
The scar they left,
Slicing your head open so many times.
It's tender and inflamed.
It's never going away.
There's something I have to say.
And that's I'm really really sorry I did this to you.
6/23/15 is ten months since my accident.
I've written your name all over my walls
They're covered in dripping red ink
Just over and over, the letters, they crawl
And spell out all the thoughts that I think

Misery takes me for a ride on a dark and windy road
Spinning me and making me throw up
Anxiety then takes the wheel and lets its pain unload
As we're driving so fast that the engine then erupts

They kick me right out of the car and leave me there to die
As they fade away into the wind, and all I do is cry
Left here in the forest, you're still taking over me
I write your name in all the dirt, and carve it into every tree
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