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  Feb 2015 Dust Bowl
Olivia Rose
All I can taste is blood.
I don’t know if it’s mine, or yours, or even hers.
I do know that my morning tea has not yet washed away the taste of your lips.
No, no it must not be yours.

You lost yours wings, and fell,
As I gained mine and began to ascend.
You passed me on your way down
and your eyes caught me,
Pulling me down with you.
I saw the pain in your eyes as you saw your wings were gone,
So I took a knife to mine,
Today is not the day I die.

We have matching scars now,
And I kiss your shoulder blades whenever they are exposed to me.
You’ve never done the same to me,
But I don’t mind.
You see yours as a curse,
And sure,
Mine are a burden,
But let it be known,
I will do almost anything for you.
I won’t die for you,
But I’ll live for you.
I think about you a lot these days.
  Feb 2015 Dust Bowl
Edward Coles
Once I held you in my arms,
I loved you in my sleep,
above the traffic
and the circumstance,
above the slaughter of the sheep.

You made me sing at my guitar,
a grown man falling to defeat.
Now I cannot find The Answer
in the company I keep.

The game is rigged, we know it is,
in a hustler's *******,
the bank cartels
and corn-fed chicken
descend upon the weak.

I held you in my arms
on a precipice brave and steep,
above the breadlines
and the cannibals,
above the slaughter of the sheep.

You have me writing poetry
about landscapes left unseen,
you kissed the addict on the mouth
and now he's looking to get clean.

But the day is long, you know it is,
forgive me for sounding bleak,
a sucker for
those sad, sad songs,
and that chemical retreat.

I am not working on perfection
in a lifetime stretched and brief,
but I am working on a promise
that for once,
I intend to keep.

See, I've got a knack for giving up,
for feigning inner peace,
I've had my fill of oil spills
and the slaughter of the sheep.

You've felt it too, that burdened love,
the dead-end of familiar streets,
you lay down with him,
habitual ease;
lilac skin now a slab of meat.

The dignitaries come,
the friends you have to meet,
a compromise of ancient ties,
amongst the ******
and the thief.

Words are falling fast for you,
though I lack the skill to piece
all the fragments you paint for me
in this temple of disease.

The race is run, you know it is,
a pace we couldn't keep,
our lungs are full
of cigarettes,
our tongues of old deceit.

The Lie is out amongst the crowds,
but I have no time for war and peace;
I am slipping into
my lover's robe,
into your twisted sheets.

Once I held you in my arms,
I loved you in my sleep,
this wolf's disguise,
those bells that chime
at the slaughter of the sheep.
A spoken word piece. I think it works better when you read as you listen:

https://soundcloud.com/edwardcoles/the-slaughter-of-the-sheep
Dust Bowl Feb 2015
I want to fall in love again,
But only with you.
Dust Bowl Feb 2015
I watch my best friend's heart break  in front of me.
I watch the way her shoulders roll forward, as if she's hoping her spine will break through her skin.
She wants to be the one to stab her back this time.

And though I can hear the remains of her once perfect heart rattling through her ribcage,
Some part of her still won't let go.
I always rolled my eyes at her confidence, but now I'm left wondering where the hell it went.
She ******* knows better.
I know she does.

She asks me what she should do, and in that moment I want to grab her shoulders.  
I want to beg her.
Beg her not to do this to herself.
Tell her she deserves better.
**** that
I want to scream it at her.
So loud in her face that it echoes out her ears.
I want to yell "**** him"at the top of my lungs.
Because no matter what he says
No one will ever LOVE HER as much as SHE DOES.

I want to show her every scar on my body.
Lift the curtain on the childhood she didn't get to see on our play dates.  
I want to walk her through my memories,
let her feel the regret,
let her feel the way I screamed at 4 in the morning.
I want her to hear the sound of no one answering.

I want her to see loneliness through my eyes.
Feel the hard thud of settling.
To finally know what it's like to rot alone in a casket while you're breathing into your lover's neck.

I want her to know my pain,
in the hopes she will run as fast as she can in the opposite direction.
so that maybe she wont end up like me,
at least not yet.

So when she asks me what she should do,
I tell her
"I should've ran."
  Feb 2015 Dust Bowl
samantha neal
I became so addicted to the feeling of nothing
that when I started to feel you
I went through withdrawals.
I wanted so desperately to forget about
the nice feelings that ran through my mind
when I thought of you,
because I became so intimate with being alone
that leaving the vast isolation of myself behind
felt like I was killing the part of me
that taught me how to survive.
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