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 Aug 2017 Eileen Xu
Sylvia Plath
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a **** lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
0 my enemy.
Do I terrify?----

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart----
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
 Dec 2016 Eileen Xu
Shameful Me
We went to his old house today
I helped him collect his belongings
And also throw away some
I stood in silence
Engulfed in my thoughts
Of how many of these things were hers
Or were from her
And I saw the changes in his expressions
With each item
And I hate that he allows me to have wonder
If these things brought his mind
Back to the past
And even after a years time
I still can't help to feel second
To the girl who could never love you
Like I do
 Dec 2016 Eileen Xu
Alice Baker
I knock on the door, shaking.
They answer, tell me to come in.
"I am not my self" I say.
"That's okay" they say.
I hesitate, brace for impact.
"Its okay" they say.
I stumble, asking for forgiveness.
"For what?" they say.
"For everything"

The past four years have been a triumph of self loathing, of learning to apologize while regretting saying sorry.  I have felt I am not even a person without a bottle or a pill. I do not know where my story began, and where I wish it ended. But I am slowly learning to be okay, to accept myself, I think that is why it has taken me such a long time to write.

The thing is, I don't know who I am, I have been a couple different souls: some are weak, some are strong, some are as passive as ocean sand.

I'm 22, female, and lost.  

I have contemplated death many times, I've attempted it even more.  If you are still reading I applaud you.  Bless your soul.

Sincerely,
Still alive
 Oct 2016 Eileen Xu
Anna Jones
We stand
Arms length
Hands like soldiers in the night
Wanting something better
Than the rumours of the world

Listen to the beat
The stamping feet
The parade rhythm of life
Tearing us asunder

The kind of etheric dance
That makes you stay up
Late at night with wonder

Longing
For security
An in-breath
Becomes a bullet
Shattering illusions

I hold my breath
Hearing you near
Body exhales;
No more fear

As the flames and smoky fire
Consume our souls
We melt the wire...
Yet still a connection stands
Electric voice screams
A heartfelt song,
Carried across victorious lands
Singing 'we will never forget you...'

Afterward, fumes fill the air
Birds sing along the creek
Silence crashes like symbols
As I read your last words
'We only depart to meet...'

— The End —