the she raw is beautiful because
because short
(eyes green ) hair the

lips by

sing easily with neatness
and her mouth is

where exactly it might appear obscenely wonderful
to push my mouth

which i also like would
my own to raw she become
into a singe of crisp love
together as like a sprig in Spring
blossoms such uncaving of coloures

but sharp too
as a rose might wear
the coloures are

for parting of skin
between rib and breast
where a heart lies

wanting to fold
folding of want
of raw she

who beautiful because is

Be my muse,
I'll translate you into binary
and back again.
Lying on the ground,
blue carpet between your ears,
synthesized sounds convey through spaghetti,
hearing aides grow old with us.
Child sized vowels fall off their bicycles,
from between your lips.
Keep me busy; when I'm comfortable, I get lazy.
Your shirts are overlaid grids,
the holes, coordinates.
17.43
Always a poet, only occasionally writing,
I hedge my bets and roll die
with insults open to interpretation.
I don't like your words,
I don't need your hyena smiles
I don't want your degrading remarks.
But I know your skeleton,
your tendons, cartilage and marrow filler.
I understand how you move,
the coconut oiling your joints.
Be a textbook reference,
help me cut apart the paperchain people I’ve made,
I want to portray them realistically.
Shade their features with scrawled adjectives,
resolving to care about typography.
White school glue takes too long to dry
to have hopes of staving off entropy.
Scribble highways into dusty prairies,
be the cartographer that misplaces my world.

On days without a tide
I think about letting my body slip
from up high and splash into the
cold
wet
ocean

It is a lazy daydream
I think about the stagnant release
of tension and built up pressure like others dream of
romance
success
and childhood

But I am a bland beige
On the spectrum of color and concerns
so I pray you leave me to
dream
mild
dreams

i once had a friend

we would talk philosophy and things of deep matter

it never felt depressing talking of old ways

invigorating.

i remember in between these conversations we would draw together and laugh at how horrible we both were.

you took my arm once and we went around to look at chalk art.

i looked at you for a moment and the next you were gone.

old souls intertwined.

we were perfect.

i was nervous for what could be of us.

and you are gone.

forced out of my own hand

twisted bent into a new identity one you can make out of a new location.

i never said goodbye.

i couldnt.

The perfect child I used to be went to play one day.
she went down this road so very slow,
and ran into a tree.
She woke up later in a strangers house
sitting by the christmas tree.
Oh the fire, Oh the horror, oh what happened to me.?
The pretty little dress around her waist Didn't cover much
Just the nessesities.
her hands were bound behind her back
oh what happened to me?
Just then a man came to her.
  "oh darling Don't worry, Don't worry I am not that mean."
he said oh so quietly. to me.
he gave me some water and I fell asleep
I wake to him ******* me Oh, what happened to me?
I couldn't see
I couldn't move
I could only feal what was happening to me
Hours it felt so painful to me, My heart was broken in three.
my body went numb so slowly I could't breath,
Slowly so, so slowly something trickled down me,
Oh. whats happening to me?.
Just when I thaught it couldn't get worse he whispered so quietly to me.
"I've opened your'e eyes so look close although you have none have fun with my son"
and he left me with his son ,
he hit me. he bit me. and oh so more
                  Then I heard a click and he cut me so very slowly
                   all over me he slid the knife, Intill everything went black and I died.
written   by  savannah    rawdon  just  turned   *twelve

they might even glow ,
glossy and slow
                  they  sure will all  know. and point you to blame,
the roach coach came and taught you the game.
lend me your lighter to make this flame brighter
heat up this fire and help you get higher,
you're mouth's a bit sticky I bet it taste's icky,
doe's it look white?.  you'll sure be alright .,
nick name to the cotton dry mouth tastes like rotton,.
awh, don't say where you bought it or how you got it.
I will be busted and you,
just untrusted.....

jessica     *applegate

You watched her run
the bread
and butter knife
along

her inner arm
blunt blade
gesture only
enough to give

the nurses
something
to think about something
to make them

take the knife away
and sigh or curse
beneath breath
she walked about

the locked ward
in her light blue
nightgown
no shoes

or socks
or stockings
sometimes she’d search
through the men’s drawers

for razor blades
or something sharp
no doing
you said

I’ve looked already
she said
heard you tried
to string yourself up

in the john?
had those **** nurses
wetting themselves
and banging

on the locked door
and god
how they nigh
wet their *******

with it all
she said
almost managing
a small smile

bags
under her eyes
her pale skin
thin lips

sans lipstick
how do you think
it’ll go?
waiting

your next chance?
maybe
you said
she touched your hand

ran a finger
along the wrist
and scar
her gentle skin

setting fire
to tired flesh
then after tea
after the sandwiches

which Big Ted
brought up
from the canteen
watching

the sky
turn blue
to black
you knew

the dark was approaching
and the Black Dog back.