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 Jul 2013 els
Annie Lora
Consider Words
As waves.
That crash,
fall,
hurt.
Consider words
As mediums,
transferring emotion,
to each life,
burden,
thought,
Happening to pass
through a whirl
of irrelevance
called mind
 Jul 2013 els
Morgan
We're all addicted to breathing
Most of us prefer oxygen
But some of us really dig nicotine
I happen to get the most high
off the scent of his skin;
Autumn leafs & incense
With an undertone of a skunked forty
And dry blood like rusting metal
*I hold my breath when it's not in the air
 Jul 2013 els
Higgs
DON'T
 Jul 2013 els
Higgs
It saddens me to think
How desperate you feel right now.

You can't see a future
And nobody seems to understand.

Well I know you don't want to hear this
But I'm begging you

PLEASE GIVE LIFE A CHANCE.

Because, trust me,
Things are going to get better
And I can't let you throw it all away
And miss the wonderful times that lie ahead.


But why should you listen to me?

After all,
Who the hell am I?

A concerned friend,
With lots to say
But no time to listen?

A well-meaning do-gooder,
With plenty of platitudes
But no real answers?

No.

I'm somebody who knows
Exactly what you're going through
And I am counting on you
To step back from the brink


For I am your future self.
Based on past experience and dedicated to those who ever find themselves in such a situation.
 Jul 2013 els
Morgan
Lip stick stains all over my notebook
from every night I stumble in,
with my organs drowning
and my fingers shaking
I spill over the edges of my skull
and splash onto the pages
Your best friend brushes
your hair when you're anxious?
Isn't that sweet

My best friend has a satin binding
Blue lines and red margins
I was perpetually anxious
until I found him
lying lifelessly
behind a little sign that read
"Two for $5"
at my local library
when I was thirteen
 Jul 2013 els
Morgan
You, On Loop
 Jul 2013 els
Morgan
We were never
much for
                                           shopping malls
We weren't
interested in
                                             t a l k i n' ****
We
chose
your basement
and a case
over every single
                                                   house kegger
for four years straight
We bought
concert tickets
on
                                             prom night
We drove to
Philly
with a couple forties
and
~l A u g H E d~
so hard
our
ribs
ached
Always
doing
100
miles
an
hour
                                          down
the
                         freeway
listening to
Scranton punk
and flicking
dead joints
out the
passenger side
window
On
l a z y
nights
we'd park at the church
up the road a little ways from my house
I'd watch your
lips
move
                                                                ­                 slow and careful
as you sang
under the street lights
and asked
"how am I sounding?"
I'd usually tell you
...it could be better
Just because I wanted to listen
to you try again
And again and again
until it was stuck in my head
Oh,
I swear
You're
Still
Stuck
In
My
Head
 Jul 2013 els
Morgan
Warm apple
& pumpkin spice
Its mid summer
but you're still burning
Fall scents
You bury your head
in your pillow
and twist your body,
all wrapped in sheets
toward the wall
beneath the window,
"It still smells good
so I dunno... whatever"

You're always laughing
at the most
insignificant things
and making eyes
with inanimate objects
like your guitar or my notebook
You say you fall in love
with the art I make
and then you kiss my forehead
and twirl my hair
between your fingers
You're the only one who really cares
to consider
all of my rants and hurried scribbles
'art'
Most of them have been
about you
for the past year or two
I wish I could still
show you
I know you'd pour
your eyes
into every word
Underlining all of your
favorite parts with the
tip of your pointer finger
& choosing one stanza
to sing like an other one of your
pretty songs,
strumming your thumb
against the page like the
strings of your tired guitar
Just like you did
on that patient day
last summer
Lying in your bed
Counting ceiling tiles
and making homes in each other's chests
I miss you
 Jul 2013 els
Mikitara
a twenty-six year old woman sits alone outside a coffee shop, waiting
she plays Snake on an old Nokia that was discontinued long ago
her red dread locks are tucked neatly under a worn beanie
that she stole from the boy that she gave her virginity away to
in a skate park when she was nineteen

a twenty-six year old woman sits alone at her desk, writing
she has a one night stand whose name she doesn't remember sleeping in her bed
her mascara is running and her lips are dyed black from henna
that she stole from the girl who offered her shelter when she ran away to live
in her car and dingy motel rooms after college

a twenty-six year old woman sits outside a Stop and Shop, drinking Shasta
she recently tried to publish her book of poems , but it was rejected so:
her shorts barely covered her backside and she wore the bralette
that she stole from her brother's girlfriend while she was visiting
in the false hopes that he would register how badly she needed him (or anyone)

a twenty-six year old woman sits in a little blue rowboat, drilling holes into the bottom
she skims Red Kayak before she leaves home and ties rocks around her ankles
her thoughts are set on mentally regressing the pain of her teenage years
that she wishes she could steal back to at least put some emotion back
into her heart

it'd been better than feeling nothing at all
much later, her ghost watches on quietly:
"Ten years ago, it was today
I never imagined
giving up this way."
 Jul 2013 els
Ann Beaver
Glue
 Jul 2013 els
Ann Beaver
Glue comes out too fast
But not at the right angle
Adhesion unburdened
Learned it
From living just second-by-second
Was the reason ever reckoned?
I don't remember.
It was in late December
When I opened my eyes
Covered in glue
Still not dry, realizing:
The glue comes out too fast
And never seems to last.
 Jul 2013 els
Morgan
unknown
 Jul 2013 els
Morgan
loving you is the most exhausting thing i've ever come to know
not because the feelings aren't mutual, simply because you are unaware
the constant curiosity of what you think
do you think i'm broken? do you think i'm naive?
my lack of confidence and your stock of mystery is what keeps me going
maybe this is a game i don't want to end, maybe i want to admire you from a distance, like the way some look at the sea
my tendencies are starting to go out of control
i've counted the freckles on your nose and i know that you tap your fingers when you are at a loss for words
i come up with these scenarios
these drawn out stories
the ones where nothing else matters except for us
notice me
touch me
love me
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