You’ll wait a long, long time for anything much
To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud
And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves.
The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch,
Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud.
The planets seem to interfere in their curves—
But nothing ever happens, no harm is done.
We may as well go patiently on with our life,
And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun
For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane.
It is true the longest drout will end in rain,
The longest peace in China will end in strife.
Still it wouldn’t reward the watcher to stay awake
In hopes of seeing the calm of heaven break
On his particular time and personal sight.
That calm seems certainly safe to last to-night.

(To hear us talk)

The tree the tempest with a crash of wood
Throws down in front of us is not bar
Our passage to our journey’s end for good,
But just to ask us who we think we are

Insisting always on our own way so.
She likes to halt us in our runner tracks,
And make us get down in a foot of snow
Debating what to do without an ax.

And yet she knows obstruction is in vain:
We will not be put off the final goal
We have it hidden in us to attain,
Not though we have to seize earth by the pole

And, tired of aimless circling in one place,
Steer straight off after something into space.

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can’t sustain the part.

she follows me everywhere
does what I do
says what I say
brews what I brew

she wears what I wear
and eats what I eat
plays what I play
and meets who I meet

she cries when I cry
and talks how I talk
she drinks what I drink
and walks where I walk

but to think what i think
is not her cup of tea
her name is depression
and her target is me

I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.

Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

I could be walking down the street one day, blasting Rihanna or Fleetwood Mac, jamming so hard that I don’t see the bus coming. I could be walking with a book in my hand, reading until the very end. I could be paying total and complete attention, imagine the impact before it arrives.

And I’d really, really rather not die with some confusing statement I said sitting in the phone or the thoughts or the memory of someone I know, care about, need.

I know how it is—we all want to be mysterious. None of us want to get hurt. None of us want to look desperate. So we wait to respond to texts, phone calls, emails, Facebook messages, Tweets. So we communicate our emotions in how we end our messages (no period this time? Really gonna get them.). So we say vague, half-statements and expect people to read our minds.

But what if we died?

What if the last thing you ever texted that girl was, “I don’t know, whenever,” when she asked when she should come over, even though you really really wanted to see her right now? What if you were head-over-heels in lust with some beautiful human in your Lit. class but you chose to wait 15 seconds before texting them back, only to never get the chance to text them at all?

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the bus is coming.

(So go text them back.)

-Rachel C. Lewis

Humans are funny little beings; they fall.
Falling recklessly in and out of varying degrees of affection; they tell.
Telling each other half-truths and half-lies; they reveal.
Revealing their most closely guarded secrets at a slip of the tongue; they feel.
Feeling emotions unforeseen by their own cortical matter; they think.
Thinking about futures that may never even be theirs to live; they breathe.
Breathing the love that clouds the air and developing immunity; they write.
Writing vague poetry to soothe their noisy souls; they hope.
Hoping the universe really does have a plan for them; they journey.
Journeying through that amusing series of events they call a life; they live.
Living- really living through it all.

You may know me by name
But you dont know me by who I am
Im like a caterpillar gone wrong
I grew wings but my body is still the same

I was always a mistake
Nothing more that I can do
The fear that I would break
And no one to hold on to

I hate people
But im scared to be alone
I need help
But I shun everyone I know

I dont want to be a burden
It scares me the most
Good thing im never noticed
Im treated like a ghost

I dont need help
But please help me
Im flawed and ignorant
But please still save me

Go away you might get hurt
Please stay, im all alone
Youre wasting your time
Please youre all i have

You'll just be annoyed
Im soo sorry
Youre efforts are worthless
Please forgive me!

If you leave its fine
Another failed attempt
No one can help me
I wonder if someone can?

Im a failure
Why I am I like this?
Theres no hope
I never wanted this
Give up
Why?
You'll save yourself