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  Oct 2017 HRTsOnFyR
Ashlie Lozano
The truth is, I'm just another mutant kid. Fused at the wrists and hips, these scars will tell you how I've lived.

I've seen the Son's face, if it wasn't for His grace, I don't know how I would have survived this place.

Your songs reminded me that I don't always have to be strong, that my tears weren't always wrong. My Savior offers me haven from the demons that plague this place.

My home is dark and cold, but He set fire to my bones. He set my soul ablaze and I made haste to escape this dreadful place.

I've thrown away all my ammunition, put aside all my false traditions. I've canceled all my plans, I've proven the enemy as a scam.

And now instead of taking it out on my wrist, I've turned my gun to a fist.
Okay so I wrote this kind of as a "what would I say to Twenty One Pilots?" kind of deal. Their music has helped me so much and inspired me to do even more. So, yeah lol.
  Oct 2017 HRTsOnFyR
argus
Tonight I dance alone, in my red robe.
Alone, with what I have come to let haunt my mind.
The temple of solitude is breached.
If I am the Soliloquist,
I have too many voices within me to be heard.
If I am the Sciamachist,
I have too many enemies to hope to win.

Tonight I dance alone, because pleasure eludes my mind.
Alone, excommunicated and,
in some sense,
left behind.
  Oct 2017 HRTsOnFyR
bri mylyn
every time I hear church bells I'll think of you
for the rest of my life
as long as someone has hands to ring them

remember how you fell in love with me, samson
and you knew what pandora felt like when she opened up the top
and let all the evil come dripping out into the world.

but pandora was afraid.
you laughed.

you kissed me and my chest became a hurricane
and we'd stand waist deep in rumbling seas
with your lips trying to pull another storm out of mine

I was in your house and on your floor
the holiest thing I have ever done
you gave me my first sips of red wine while you held the cup to my lips

I touched my stained mouth and you laughed
you sounded like a lion and that thought brings joy to the pit of my belly
you clothed me in pure lace, your hand at my back, hip to hip
I decided to make you my wine glass and fill you with the sweetness I fell in love with then

samson, remember when you reached inside of me
and pulled out a feeling I forgot that I knew about
spiritual awakening
words from Genesis

I can't sleep in my bed anymore, samson
because when I close my eyes I see all the stars you bought me
all the stars we named after all the children we'll never have

every crinkle by your eyes
adds to my life line
so I'll never let anyone
read my palms again

my love, I've aged you
my love, when you turn to dust,
I'll have the taste of sweet wine and an empty altar
and the memory of a hundred stars
and a thousand hurricanes
  Oct 2017 HRTsOnFyR
Sean Flaherty
I used to be a good listener
Now, "I'm sure I've heard that before."
Arguing with Eros, arrogant, erudite.
At odds with his arrows. Even angry.

Bumping numbered reminders of the
Year I was leaving behind,
Headed for the hyphen.
Orange gunk, proper circumstance, and
Cagey, coughing.
"I want to be
Soaked in style, and left
Drying on a dusty line. See...

"I'm an ugly *******,
But my eyes are alive.
And the tragically beautiful's
All I've got left."
Killing, time and
Battery life, requesting
The chance to
Breathe in my city.

The edges of a crucifix
Etched into his visage.
Looking for good luck, and
"That USA Gold taste,
To remind you of home," in India.
Walking away from a car crash.

Not heavy, dry,
But frozen solid.
Trekking on, past beautiful women that are
Painting their walls.
Poems, pouring from the
Mouths of the desperate,
Echo down the alleys.

"I'm not sure to whom belong these bones,
'Cuz they sure as hell ain't mine." But
Remember? That December? We
Bled blue and silver,
Sledding down seven-foot snow banks, and
Kicked out for stepping on toes.
My poems aren't usually so liberal with the usage of the word "I," but consider this a soliloquy of sorts.
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