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 Sep 2013 Erin Kay
dean
we laid on the bed and didn't touch.
i wanted you to hold me but i was afraid you'd catch this disease i have, apathy.
insomnia and heartache are synonyms,
you told me.
everything looks different in the dark.
you think you know your heart until the blackout illuminates a new one entirely.
i told you i was afraid and you wrote a lullaby down my spine.
that's not right.
everything is different in the dark.
you didn't touch me.
i forgot you didn't touch me.
the loaded question was on your lips as i pressed mine to yours. bang.
kissing doesn't count as touching but you stopped me anyway.
it was raining cats and dogs and you told me to lighten up or it would never stop.
i choked on your tongue and you called it a laugh.
silence is an accent i wish more people had.
you didn't say anything.
you didn't touch me.
 Sep 2013 Erin Kay
Megan Grace
Dear,
 Sep 2013 Erin Kay
Megan Grace
all my poems have stopped
sounding like poems and
just read like I'm trying to
write you the same letter
in eighty different ways.
 Sep 2013 Erin Kay
R
Untitled
 Sep 2013 Erin Kay
R
she wishes to dance
with only
her.
Even if you cannot shape your life as you want it,
at least try this
as much as you can; do not debase it
in excessive contact with the world,
in the excessive movements and talk.

Do not debase it by taking it,
dragging it often and exposing it
to the daily folly
of relationships and associations,
until it becomes burdensome as an alien life.
 Sep 2013 Erin Kay
Ben
i woke up this morning
locked myself in the bathroom
with whiskey beer and netflix
a hot steam shower and
aching thoughts for a cigarette

they said be strong you'll make it in time
but all i see is a negative sum numbers game
ad infinitum forevermore on & on & on
another day another nicked nickel through my fingers

so instead of being a "productive" member of society
i'm drunk at 8:00 am and wallowing in self pity
but hey the shows are free
but this shower's gunna cost me
 Aug 2013 Erin Kay
Stella Gamber
I want to watch all
The teeth fall out
Of my mouth
My eyes sink
Into my skull
Every hair
Fall out of my head

Brittle nails and blue fingertips
Yellowing patches
And skin
Clear enough to see rivers
Flowing beneath
Canvased tight,
as if my bones
Are just hoping to break free

To cut through
The canvas with
The knife my grandfather
Gave me
Spilling everything

Every word
I could never get out
Every time getting
Caught on
The tip of my tongue

No glass half full
Or half empty
I want to be as shallow
as it gets

When the waves
Crash against the shoreline
Making their way up
To meet your sand-covered toes,
That is as shallow as
The water gets

I could never
Be so versatile
As the ocean

I have to choose,
And what’s the point of
Such strong feelings
If they are always trapped
And writhing
On my inside

- S.G.
Ex-virgins wake up in the morning
And they cry
Feeling no different
At having lost
Their intangibility
lovers are burning.] balsamic ****** gallops from shame
into the overwild wetness of labial volcanoes, caramelized in musk. by love's labor.
laid bare, their bodies origami inhibition...[ lovers are burning. ]
and surrender is victorious !
Eros is speechless. maidens howl into cumulus goose-down, chewing carnal haikus
with swayed backs.... hips wide and wanton. masculine wands plow oyster beds, unmade.
they joust pearls... and [ lovers are burning ]
.... a damp conflagration; tongue stoked and windswept, conspires.
monotony is slain !
puritan harps are plucked and thrummed ! lewd harmonies anoint the perfect pitch
and a chorus moans. the ghost of sylvia plath, straddles Apollo; and he earns his wreath
surging besotted. [ lovers are burning ] and laurels forgotten.
lotharios charge the seldom road; the starfish door to Saturn's parlor.
pumping unbridled, that glistening, cloven moon. her riding crop insists !
his urgency must do.
satyrs sup salaciously and summon staves to dip in brine. they grin and grind
their sutras, stripping karma gears with silk scarves. ankles to a post, well spread...
cushions crush. flowers press... stamen fed.
nymphs clutch their serpent stones
to drain what nectar slips the slit. they ***** and throat.
they peck and pinch their quivers; knock their arrows to the purpose, half spent.
[ lovers are burning ]
eyes ablaze. nostrils fetch randy fumes of consent. mouths seek.
a pouty swamp with Spanish moss.... finds a matador
and a bull, a china shop.
lovers are burning the rough sketch of a lost god
and their angels are voyeurs
with unclean thoughts

for gospels.
 Aug 2013 Erin Kay
brooke
He was like the thunder
8 miles, 7 miles, 9 miles,
suddenly, three. Suddenly
gone. Suddenly,
rain, suddenly
none.
(c) Brooke Otto
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