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Poor courage,
break down pleasantly.
Feed the nameless
with siren calls.
Feed them all!
Their hungry bellies can have myth.
Feed them all
splinters of health in your absence.
Be a doll and let them feast.
Behold! You're tragic
after all.

After all drips have fallen
from the auto-feeder,
believing so much in -- no!
Run right back to mother hope,
covered in wire.
Metal bones frame our warm lit home.
Covered in wire.

Stares hurt too
much to remedy.
Breathe the pain in
your oxygen.
Breathe to mend
old bite marks on which critters gnaw.
Breathe to mend!
But breathe instead, poison
cutting coughs.
Begin orbit, notice your throat bleed.
Behold! Your answer
to their call:

Silence. Retreat.

Whisper frustration into bedsheets like a lover,
feel the warmth you radiate imitate another, to
take reward in the title "savior", to be reborn
in your listlessly pulsing head, and sing your solo
song, song, song,
Reborn, born, born
in leery echoes.
Tortoise and the hare—
Home investors, speculators,
  .  .  .  Both fell into holes.
 Nov 2013 Derek Yohn
Jeremy Duff
HB2
 Nov 2013 Derek Yohn
Jeremy Duff
HB2
Thank you
for lighting up this room
just by entering.

And thank you
for talking to me;
I know it can be hard to do.

Thank you
for loving me
and all my faults.

Yes,
I've been thinking about you
and yes
I've been drinking
and yes
it is a lovely combination.
say
2 AM and I just wanna mention that the glass still clears a reflection and I think there's something strange going on. The flammable liquid of your smile and the list upon a life upon a mescal high fix it fix it fix it. There's not much to say, except who hasn't seen the world glow? Who hasn't seen the world burn? Who hasn't seen the world purr all soft cat smiles and friendly "yesma'ams"? We need an often-presence, so take what you will.
Beauty is not how something looks.
It is how something is.
WANTED**
Girl
/
Woman
Seeking
Attractive
Funnyinteresting
Sweet
Human
Between the ages of
17
And
25.
Must enjoy
Washing dishes
And see it
As a form of reflection
Not a
Chore.
Girl/Woman
Enjoys baking
Roasting
Cooking
But not dishes.
Food provided.
Cuddler preferred.
Inquire at her heart
With soft words
And gentle glances.
 Nov 2013 Derek Yohn
Reece
Sick and cyclical memories linger, how unjust it seems
In somber city streets, her father's name she screams
When the fix is late and her body sodden and shaking
Her childhood recollections waking, every joint aching
Falling on tarmac, tearing stockings and fleshy knees
Through the distant mist it's a saviour that she sees
Marvin on a white steed, motorbike and leathers
To get her straight  he only requires her nethers
What difference could it make to such a worn woman
So little that her eyes glaze as he announces his comin'
And she's immediately put to work after initial transaction
All night shifts, ****** abstraction, customer satisfaction
Returning 'home' to Marvin where the earnings are counted
Giggling schoolgirl as playful stories of John's are recounted
And Marvin's insatiable perversions are compounded
****** cocktails and deviancy, her psyche confounded
The **** sleeps blissfully beside his new top girl
And through ****** daze, she examines her world
 Nov 2013 Derek Yohn
Jedd Ong
Maybe we should keep the doors open.

Maybe then,
The night won't seem as fearful.
The dusks.
The dawns.

Maybe,
There's really nothing to fear;
The sinister ones seek closed quarters.

If we opened our palms just a little,
They'd run

And scatter.

We should keep the cocoon
A little more broken.

Find that they
May rest their wings.
After the inception of the new, high speed way,
luck beheld a continuation that increased
velocity even more.  Stores, beginning through
optimistic (sails, sales) filled with industrious
wind currents, began to perish, because the dust

crept in to forget and never start again.  Trade
was offered from one to another, likely to achieve

practical results, but the consequence was a loss
of heritage.  All that had gone before stumbled
out the door into darkness and surcease.  Absence
was abandoned as the light walked away into
the desolate remains which, in only a few days,
left the city, and commerce, stalled with people,
everywhere, standing quietly like burlap dolls.
The sound was pouring light outward from its
eyesight to remember something other than that

which had been lost, inserted and devoid; the
former ideas drifted to become a trace of the new

prestige.  Communication overwhelmed the hope
though hope endured.  A collection of machines
was learning to live together, and to attend night
clubs with astonished amounts of stress arguing
against the comprehension which insisted that
importance was captivating the subjects of change.

Always, they were slinking into the circuits,
coloring the programs with a steady pace that
receded to neglect functionality.  Those tired of
hearing about the clocks winding down were not
escaping the clever snares set for their awkward

feet and kept among delicate fossils of brilliance.
It might have been a global fever, or perhaps
everything just ceased to operate.  Some strike by
electrons offered them the predicament, and
the opportunity, returning them to a simple form

of human sentiment, so that smaller gatherings

arrived at the significance of a tale while burning
things on sticks above the campfires flickering
along the coast and seen inland at the base of
distant mountains.  Simple arts included using
furniture and hot air balloons driven by stainless
steel burners.  Talking too often, and to a point of
foolish interruption, demonstrated the frailty of
coordination where zeros and ones meant,
essentially, that a point had been made and lost,
although fighting confusion was denied by context.
Some of this was mistaken by preconceptions that
created impractical situations, and other things
were long walks glued to comfortable boots or

reliable shoes.
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