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 Jan 2018 Evie
Sarah Zahidi
There's no one in the whole world;
Who's scared of me more than myself.

There's no one in the whole world;
Who's ashamed of me more than myself.

There's no one in the whole world;
Who hates me more than myself.

However,

There's no one in the whole world;
Who understands me more than myself,

There's no one in the whole world;
Who's proud of me more than myself.

There's no one in the whole world;
Who loves me more than myself.

With a million reason to hate yourself;
There’s another million reason to love yourself.
Love-hate relationship with myself
 Jan 2018 Evie
Paul Donnell
at a table i sit
in an empty room

the ambient hum of myself in silence settles around as the smoke from my marlboro swirls around my fingers

fingers that ache for the impossible

the weight of my posture says more than all of tchaikovsky's musings...

as i consummate myself and dread with whiskey saved for a time just like this
shadows spin and dance and i become entranced with the spell i cast

soon the silence breaks and heaves as whiskey magic brushes a soft hand upon my cheek and fills the room with vibrant perfume

my fingers ache for the impossible

i break myself upon regret

i blink away the spell till i can see...

the ambient hum of myself in silence settles around as the cherry on my marlboro dies in the ashtray

just a moment
in an empty room
If all i can write about is you
than i'll write about you
until you are nothing but words
scratched into paper
 Jan 2018 Evie
Lucia
Isn't it incessant!?
That tick tick ticking within the walls of my skull.
It will count me down, entrap me in my own noise,
So thunderous!
And I can only pray for release,
Into dullness.

Why must my tired pupils notice everything!?
They rebell against me, despite my pleas to sheen over,
Ignore,
Shut tight and,
Let peace wash me away!

Together, they assault me with experience,
And I am shoved in a wedge of darkness,
To beg for tranquility in vain.

The constant thoughts turning over,
And eyes which take in light...
This proof that I am living,
It is my agony.
A bit unpolished but came candidly
 Jan 2018 Evie
laura-jessica
so happy
so happ
so hap
so ha
so h
so
s
su
sui
suic
suici
suicid
suicida
suicidal
edit: thank you for all your feedback, it is nice to hear support as well!
 Jan 2018 Evie
Mariel Ramirez
tonight, i am not
walking fast enough,
in this hungry darkness  —
my legs too short, or too long
for my clothes to hide.

i am not one to
be afraid; oblivious,
secure, leaving my mother
to watch the news
by herself.

but tonight, something
feels different. my heart
stumbles, racing, knowing
there’s no escape  —

that out of the
dozens on this street, i am
the one the bullet will
find, or the car
will slam into

from behind.
in the morning,
pull my body from the
river, say a prayer.

i knew. tonight,
there was going to be
bloodshed. tonight, i would be
the one not
saved.
wrote this in my head, when i was walking home from a nearby mall one night, and it was so, so dark, and i just had this really weird feeling in my chest.
 Jan 2018 Evie
Delta Swingline
1.  Dust is constant. It is a symbol of time telling you that either something needs to be cleaned, or you need to take a picture.
There will never be complete cleanliness so when people say "cleanliness is close to Godliness" promptly hand over an invitation to have dinner at your dusty house. And then show those people where you pray. Notice that sacred space has dust.

2. Chairs are complicated. They can have 4 legs, 5 legs, no legs, wheels on their legs. Chairs are such a wild forever changing species that we don't really have a good concept of what a chair is. Which begs the question, what is true chairness? Plato believed that somewhere somehow there is a perfect concept of such things. Which begs the question, what is it to be truly human? From where I stand, we all wear skin, breathe air, and hate high school anyway.

3. Appreciate your couch. I realized this at a young age when I figured out that dying means, never seeing a couch again.

4. The bed is not sacred. It is not a stronghold or sanctuary. It is the place you go when you are either done or satisfied with the world.

5. Windows are the windows of your house. It doesn't sound as good as eyes being the window to your soul but my point still stands. The windows are beautiful. And snowflakes freezing on them is a captured moment of nature being transparent.

6. Take a painting class. Learn how to make art on a canvas and hang that **** up. Buy a painting for no other reason other than that it costs more than $50. Travel and bring back a print and frame it. Learn to cross-stitch and hang that up too. The walls may change colour from time to time, but at least hang something on them.

7. Look for imperfection. When I was a kid I took a pencil and wrote in jagged penmanship "The end" at the bottom of my staircase. My mother, of course, scolded me for writing on the house, but for whatever reason, she kept the phrase there. Maybe because I knew the end had to be somewhere and I might as well end in the home I started in.

8. Buy refrigerator magnets that teach kids the alphabet. Organize them so that reading a message in the morning makes breakfast seem a little more inviting. And as a firm believer that breakfast is not a necessary meal, I too, need something in the morning to make me feel less alone.

9. Fill one closet with cleaning supplies. We may never get to the end of many tasks, but we can clean this house. Clean the cupboards, wash the windows, sweep the floor, write on the walls, just so you can erase it. And when you finish cleaning, and you bring all of your supplies to that closet, organize your closet. Notice that there is a small amount of dust on the shelves of the closet.

10. Work around the house, big or small, is never completely over.
Household.
 Jan 2018 Evie
Zeth
The pronoun I can't use
Is him in "I love you"
Cause him is meant for she
And him for he can't be.

But I am not me
If he for him can't be
Cause I'm in love with him
How wrong things may seem.
The poem says it all.
 Jan 2018 Evie
Ari
Get Out
 Jan 2018 Evie
Ari
please
get out of my head.
get
out
of
my
head!

it's so painful to have you here
yet i'm always fighting for you to stay
so do me a favor
just get out
i know you don't care
you don't act like it
you ignore me
you neglect me
you reject me
and yet you said you loved me?

how could you?
to be honest..
how could i?
to fall for your lies...
i'm such a **** fool
why do i love you? it makes no sense
i have to block you for some peace, until i come crawling back in hopes of gaining your attention

it hurts so much
all of this,
caring about you.
i'm crying so much
i took my glasses off
i can barely see the screen on which i'm typing
almost like i can barely see my feelings as something important to you

sigh
i have so much to do
homework
studying
meditation
i even have a potential relationship
and yet i can't do any of it
none of it keeps my focus
why?
because of you!
why can't you listen to my plead?
i don't know

Please,
Just!
Get!
Out!
Of!
My!
Head!

before i blow you out with a bullet.
i needed to vent badly
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