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 Oct 2013 Jenna
JL
In the early mornings when the cloudy haze of the night hovers weakly over the earth, and the sun is hidden behind the great bundles in the sky, my eyes open to the stillness of the shadows, the junction between night and day. I exhale. My father's soft sighs can be heard through our thin, crumbling walls. My fingers slide over my bare legs and I curl up like a caterpillar, not ready to shed my layers of blankets and confront the stinging, cold air. My head feels heavy and empty at the same time--misty, as if the thick, morning fog had been ****** up into the space where my skull should be. My eyes are grainy and dry; my skin feels raw and cracked. I pull the cocoon tighter around my body, ready to sink back into my state of unconsciousness. Suddenly, his name is on the tip of my tongue, bitter, burning the insides of my mouth. I am pulled by my neck out of my reverie; uselessly, I struggle. They come to me in waves--the realization, the recognition, the understanding, the pain--rocking me while my body lies shriveled and numb.

It was a matter of time, I think.

I hate waking up to this.
broke up | woke up.
 Oct 2013 Jenna
mûre
The Spins
 Oct 2013 Jenna
mûre
I turn
and I turn
keep closed as I learn.

You and your path,
me and mine.

I've a thirst for amnesia
I drain the bottles, their emptiness rings like a shell in my cochlea
resounding with your breath, present, reassuring.
on those long winter walks to nowhere, our silent miles.
Those drinks only ever numb the outside,
blurring the lines
a smudge of a woman wandering through the night.

The inside is so very loud.
And so I turn
and I turn.
Closed for the night.

I place my eye on the lip and peer through the glass

my world, distorted.

Why couldn't my love save you?
I need to feel something new.
 Sep 2013 Jenna
Hadley
Monsters
 Sep 2013 Jenna
Hadley
I have tried it all
To get the monsters in my soul
Smoking them out
Drowning them in alcohol
Poisoning them with pills
Putting them to sleep with green happiness
Bleeding them out
And yet every night they whisper
I am here
I will always be here
As long as you are here
 Sep 2013 Jenna
JR Potts
We had not spoke or wrote
for many long days
turning to even longer weeks
which grew into the longest months
until I could no longer weep
and again I found peace
in my once restless sleep.

But you came a calling
and a texting me
just when my hands
finally started feeling clean
spinning them words like
"I miss you"
"I just wanted to see"
wicked turn a phrases
pierce ears like crooked hooks
they could turn a man's thoughts
like the pages of an ancient book.

Your fingers gliding gently
over now so hazy memories
we meet again amidst a fog
but your eyes, your eyes
they do not remember me
they see a man foul in form
ugly, twisted flesh, weak and pathetic
ripping his own heart from his chest

This is not me you see (no not at all)
but a protrusion of your own ill-regard
you slithered on your belly like a serpent
begging to be tread upon
so I moved like certain kinds of dances
around tribal fires
determined not to slip but inevitably I did
how dare you hiss "Liar" at me.

I'm just a man
working on being a better one
I don't expect you to understand
cause I never said I could fly
so why the **** did you think
I was superman.
 Sep 2013 Jenna
mûre
Call me the Queen of Hypothesis
I thought it was a good idea

leaving this.

I want to take a razor to the hair I grew
(long enough to enchant you)
but I won't.
I want to spend all I've got
on nothing at all.
A painted, empty fool who is poverty stricken in riches-
filet mignon, a flight to Spain, fancy finery-
but I won't.

Instead I'll cry in the kitchen.
Cry in the bedroom.
Cry at flowers.
Cry at nothing.

But I won't cut off my hair.

I want to give up.
I want to run away.
Leave town, leave society, leave myself.
But I won't.

Instead I'll hurt.
Hurt in the day.
Hurt in the night.

But I won't give up.

This mouth, it does me wrong.
This mouth says goodbye,
when it only wants to be
on your fingertips
on your neck
on your back
anywhere

just not saying goodbye.

These eyes, they do me wrong.
These eyes have seen the truth of things,
when they only want to
watch you laugh
watch you dress in the morning
watch your body moving on mine-
Just watch you.
And blind themselves against the path we have chosen.

I want to take it back.

But...

I won't.

Instead I'll love you.
And love you.
And love you,
love you,

                           I love you

until I can love me
just as much.

So call us the King and Queen of Hypothesis, darling.
Look at our glass crowns,
how clearly you can see my heart inside,

saving for something more precious

than all the kingdom's gold.
I've always loved you. I always will.
 Sep 2013 Jenna
PJ
Dirt
 Sep 2013 Jenna
PJ
Every mistake I've made,
All the wrong boys, and unhealthy
Decisions make me feel
*****, wishing to wash my brain
And body with bleach until every
Memory, every
Scar is a blur of white before
It completely fades away, I wish
These mistakes, this
Life, would disappear into the back of
My mind, but these decisions that make me
Quiver in disgust cannot be beat
By a bleached out mind, so I sit
With regret and shame
Wishing everything would simply
End

I feel so *****
 Aug 2013 Jenna
Scott T
Untitled
 Aug 2013 Jenna
Scott T
Don't think about how it makes you feel
And then use the most powerful words you know to portray it
Don't write a line, then use rhymezone to fit in with your ******* couplets
Don't use the flowery words of dead poets
Thus
Glimmer
Hope
Love
I've seen these rearranged a thousand times
Fruitlessly
Write it how it is
If it is beautiful
Then so will be the thing you write
It is the only way
 Aug 2013 Jenna
Stephen Walter
I start this off without any words. But they will come. This is the blessing, and the curse. Regardless of what has transpired in my life, or how much I wish to forget, the words will come. They are my salve and my damnation.
  The words that find their way onto these tomes soothe and comfort my weary soul, yet the ones that hide in the spaces between curse and condemn. They haunt each fiber of my mind, traversing the expanse between my neurons on the backs of false pretenses, the sugar coated electric lies that I tell myself and repeat to others.
Alcohol is not a crutch; it merely plays the role of ticket-taker, ousting the transient, stowaway misanthropes from the boxcar of truth that is my thought pattern, allowing me to take an accurate head count.
I am afraid. I am so frightened of being who I am and making myself happy that I settle for making others happy in lieu of my desires. I am paralyzed by thoughts of failure, as well as dreams of success. I am terrified that if I should start screaming, I may never be able to stop. I am usurped by panic at the thought of another day in this drudgery that is my own existence.
I am discontent. I am not happy with the way that I have allowed my life to turn out. I want it to change before I have reached the point that I only look forward to its end.
Yet, still I continue to laugh. Again and again, I regurgitate the same old sentiments of positivity and hopeless hopefulness that I have grown so accustomed. “Tomorrow is another day,” or “It can’t rain all the time.”
But tomorrow is another day. And how should I face it if it ends up being the same as today? And it can’t rain all the time, but better men than myself have drown in a flash flood.
So why do I continue to say these things? For the benefit of myself or for the person who is listening? Which one have I become?
 Aug 2013 Jenna
Ono no Komachi
omo Fitutu
nureba ya Fito no
mieturan
yume to siriseba
samezaramasi wo

Was I lost in thoughts of love
When I closed my eyes? He
Appeared, and
Had I known it for a dream
I would not have awakened.
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