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 Feb 2015 Jo King
Devon Webb
Silence
 Feb 2015 Jo King
Devon Webb
Why is it
that your silence
is so much
louder
than your voice?
 Jan 2015 Jo King
AllAtOnce
If missing you was like breathing

Does that mean I'm dead?
 Jan 2015 Jo King
Devon Webb
We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.
It's worth it though.
 Jul 2014 Jo King
RIJUL CHAUHAN
There's this girl
Who Climbed her way out of my heart;
Only to appear at my side.
She is sweetness.

If I believed in God
I would call her a miracle.
But since I don't,
I'll have to call her a universe.
In which I could never feel alone.

She is precisely the Kind of girl
I could write a love poem about.
Because every word I steal from her heart,
Is but a drop in a golden ocean.

So I sit as near to her as I can
And try to catch her eye
And smile to myself,
Because it is hard to hate a world in which
She will  always be beautiful.
 Jul 2014 Jo King
Levi Andrew
Hope is slipping through my hands..
Like sand..
And the pain is something I can't stand.
The world is closing in.
You can take away the pain..
But, that won't be enough this time..
We fight to cover up the scars..
I've had enough.
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