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 Aug 2016 Fuji Bear
Joshua Haines
I focus on my bank account
and not feeling alone.
The man in 1080p repeats,
'Where has my America gone?'
Fifty or sixty, and billionaire rich --
I guess I'm his working class *****.

Voting on how to
delude myself best;
I am part of a
dollar bill nest,
where I get to see
but don't get to touch,
where I get to give
but don't get too much.
 Jun 2014 Fuji Bear
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27 Club
 Jun 2014 Fuji Bear
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you are not twenty seven years old. you are twenty seven sorrows, twenty seven apologies, twenty seven broken pencils in a coffee mug. you used to keep memories like fireflies in jars, but now, you harvest them like organs, and you can't shake them to make you glow. i stuck a bird in where my heart should be but my pulse still sounds like a dial tone. the way a ticking clock drives a person insane is the way everything falls in love with you. the way everything falls in love with you is the way that delicate things break, and everything is delicate in the presence of a hurricane. you know how to be a storm, but no one loved you enough to show you how be a home, and the foundation you are built on is a broken as our mind - you are held together by tape and tiny hands , you are bound together by apologies and if anyone forgave you, you would simply fall apart. we must fold ourselves seventy seven times and tuck ourselves into the arms of the people we love, in hopes they never learn to read our language, and you are words written in a way that leaves everyone hanging onto each one by the skin of their teeth, even if they don't understand. I hope it's fine if i still try. if you are brave enough to touch the world, you will find that it is constantly on fire, and you never have to ask for a light.
you are not twenty seven years old, you are twenty seven wet matches, twenty seven empty rooms to scream in, twenty seven breakdowns in the bathroom. sometimes you are the sun and you can rise, but you are a deadly comedown (in any event, you are always glowing). I can hear you folding and unfolding like an origami flower, my hands know where you bend even though i have never touched you. i have seen the fear that drips through the cracks in your tough exterior, and i pried apart my own innocence to slip my way inside.  
  how many times do you groan before you finally heave and let the weight **** you? you know, contrary to what is generally believed, love knows bounds very well. it knows them and, it plunges over them, spills and overcomes you and foams around your feet before dragging you out to open see and mocks your cries for help until you finally stop thrashing and succumb to the sick trick that you have fallen for. i used to think love was a steady push and pull, but then i love you; when play tug of war with a ghost, you always end up with enough rope on your side to make a noose out of. i wanted to turn you on, not disgustingly, but in the way that i stumble in the dark, groping the wall for a switch. all of my nerves were hair triggers when you opened your mouth, now they are loud sirens and they scream when you are gone. a barely present as you would like to paint yourself out to be, i have felt you in places that are four dimensional, in the depths of my own murky consciousness that not even i know how to reach. the way a storm busts down a wooden door is the way that you enter a room,  the way you enter me. you know how to bend the light and you know how to break it, too. allow me to envelop myself in you like words in brackets, but never let me speak aloud. how many times can someone caress your jaw until it feels like you've been clocked repeatedly, and how many times can you fall in love with same person before you bust your mouth completely on their shoulder?
even after you have dragged me through this fire and made me bite all of the dust and all of the concrete beneath it, i have still loved you with a mouthful of broken teeth. now i am here to spit them out into your hands and make enough room in my throat to cough up my stifled pride.
 Jun 2014 Fuji Bear
Hannah Drew
one.
The two hour drive up left
my skin bruised with a spectrum of colors

two.
We poured ourselves out of our skin
         onto the damp grass,
                            ventured into woods in search of
                                                              bu­gs we’ve never seen
and words we’ve never heard.

three.
We cast our faces upwards
to escape the choking smoke
                                      and
                      ­  found ourselves struck by the clearness of the sky
you told me then,
Everyone of those stars could be decease
                                                                ­      you could be falling in love under the images
                                of things long dead
you said, Doesn’t that sound a lot like memories.

four.
We found ourselves alone in the dark
I was afraid to sleep alone
                                             maybe it was the handle of *****
left on the table  
                           but I found the courage to ask you to spend the night.
laying in the grass I thought the night sky would never
look this way again
                                   I was right.

five.
We took pictures,
saved them as mementos
                                          and I wondered that if I smiled
looking back
I might think I wasn’t
                                    sad.
 Jun 2014 Fuji Bear
Hannah Drew
A shot of ***** is a lot like falling in love
I’m left with slurred speech and
an aching when its over
 Jun 2014 Fuji Bear
Hannah Drew
I thought my mind contained a galaxy
so I cracked it open. Could you imagine my surprise
when the only thing that happened was that I bleed.

I thought my eyes were portals
so I stared into oblivion.
All I gained was a headache

I thought my mouth was a black hole
******* everything into its abyss.
I got sick

I thought my skin was space.
My freckles planetary.
I thought I was a universe


I very well could be.
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