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When we shed light on something
we simultaneously cast a shadow.
 Jan 2015 Danielle Coco
Kevin Eli
I'm having a dozen dreams a night; fluid and lucid.
I prefer this imagination and fantasy in my bed.
It's a lot of fun, also terrifying,
All in black and red...

Deep diving indoor pools with oil rigs and sea monsters.
I butterfly and sidestroke across the unfathomable chlorine waters.

Gliding downstream through swampy, vine-roped forests.
I end up in mangrove lakes, a canopy of bright glowing mushrooms.

Zombie hordes making me hide in closets at my parent's house.
They never break down the door, I don't understand why they carouse.

Being in a place without time, space, colors, physics or floors,
Talking to people I barely know, with no names or faces. Am I bored?

Sitting in my underwear on a dock, waiting for the bus
The others don't even seen me, but the cute girl next to me does.

I learn to fly, jump off a roof, start falling, then forget.
I twitch in my covers from a concrete slab, comical to wake up dead.

Sometimes I just sit in a cave with a reflection of myself
Talking to my ego; arguing and reasoning with nobody else.

Every time I close my eyes and lay my head,
I feel like a mad-hatter, locked in wonderland.
I've written myself into knots I cannot undo
and late nights have turned into mornings.
Tear stains mark many of my pages,
and my fingers have cramped from use.
I've run out of metaphors and clever rhymes,
synonyms, and similes,
because no matter how I start these lines,
I always end with you and me.
 Jan 2015 Danielle Coco
April
I'm scared**
when I lie awake
to the creak of the floorboards
rustle of the bushes
the walls that seem to call my name

and even  
right under the bright sun
when every single flaw
and all the pain I feel
shines
all in front of there eyes

and the honest truth is
I don't know how to smother the fear
lock it inside
transform into the strong person
they make me to be

so that's why I cry
and why I be-little who I am
I speak in little phrases
and hide behind my friends

and I wonder
because
shouldn't seventeen years and counting
have
toughened my bones
smoothed the edges
of a life I was supposed to lead?
another one. This is honest and raw, and I right now I can't think of how to explain this any better.
Freezing dusk is closing
    Like a slow trap of steel
On trees and roads and hills and all
    That can no longer feel.
        But the carp is in its depth
          Like a planet in its heaven.
        And the badger in its bedding
          Like a loaf in the oven.
        And the butterfly in its mummy
          Like a viol in its case.
        And the owl in its feathers
          Like a doll in its lace.

Freezing dusk has tightened
    Like a nut ******* tight
On the starry aeroplane
    Of the soaring night.
        But the trout is in its hole
          Like a chuckle in a sleeper.
        The hare strays down the highway
          Like a root going deeper.
        The snail is dry in the outhouse
          Like a seed in a sunflower.
        The owl is pale on the gatepost
          Like a clock on its tower.

Moonlight freezes the shaggy world
    Like a mammoth of ice -
The past and the future
    Are the jaws of a steel vice.
        But the cod is in the tide-rip
          Like a key in a purse.
        The deer are on the bare-blown hill
          Like smiles on a nurse.
        The flies are behind the plaster
          Like the lost score of a jig.
        Sparrows are in the ivy-clump
          Like money in a pig.

Such a frost
    The flimsy moon
        Has lost her wits.

          A star falls.

The sweating farmers
    Turn in their sleep
        Like oxen on spits.

— The End —