got to eat them as they darken
reddened ruby to black constant opal
berries will rot quickly if you don’t
or they’ll taste real gooey and wierdy
if you let the drupelets’ colors get
unsynchronized like summer and fall

...why am i telling you this?
because i learned that the hard way
and the days go away in the gleam
heavy showers and peak-a-boo sun
the east barely bracing for the storm
and the sweetness decaying like the leaves

I’ll either run out of tears,
Or I’ll run out of breath.
I can’t tell which first,
And I don’t know what’s best.

i am sleepwalking through
this clouded view of truth
and my soul is heavy
with your need to escape
all those noises they grew
so your voices would fade
the clouds are turning gray
and begin pouring fate
the rain wants to stay
but the sun finds a way
as they grow familiar
with the rivers and waves
i have formed in the desert
with the tears that i taste
from the suffering you face
and i want to erase
all the pain that remains
so that look on your face
can be lifted some day
as we all have the power
to shine light your way
and use our own privilege
to create worlds of change

i.

i forgive myself regularly for
walking off the cliff of self doubt
and anthropomorphizing the scenery/
watch me fail with words to improve perfection

ii.

in geologic layers hues
are stacked like pancakes
where people plodded
this granite empire as
Australopithecines

busy restarting fires
making babies, and
Sherpa-ing objects of survival
on their spines too alive to
feel the vague pain of existence
with that backdrop


Sara Fielder © June 2019

Gates of hell open before me!
My soul enters the flames of pain!
Agony, and hatred fills my mind!
No love or affection to blind my pain!
Please don't cry for me!
Rejoyce that you no longer know me!
I am the pain in all your lives!
My death will be your greatest gift to me!
**** me, Make your life joyful again!
My pain shall not be yours!
You should not know my suffering!
Death is my only friend now!
Come the taker of souls!
Death come take me to your hell!!

Written by
Michael Matthews

the ivy grows upwards
clawing at a ceiling fan  
looking to catch a glimpse of movement
the dust collecting on the blades is only proof of it's constant use
propelling a back and forth lasso of breath and exhale

my body has grown since last summer
the color of my eye mimicking jars of honey on your favorite shelf
I used to seek out momentum, the tumult of a sweaty night or the ongoing pulse of crowded people in small houses laughing about the spilled wine on hardwood floors
I can't tell if I was ever that person or if she was a catalyst of boredom swamping my every decision-making unable to make one properly for myself

I want noise and quiet
gritting teeth but a perfect mouth
I can't help but think of all my bones when walking outside
keeping me upright and unbreakable if only a shadowy and milky illusion
those places in my mind keep collecting freckles of dust and the people I've left behind now have blurry faces and unrecognizable personalities
but where there was once melancholy for different times
there's only a dog pulling me forward as the ivy grows up