J: Favorites

Oct 2015 J

Kristin Kepner

Your life was like dirt
You could hold it in your hands
It only spiled over on rare occasions
You could grow things and learn things
You could easily move the dirt till it fit you

My life was like water
No matter how hard I tried
It always slips through my fingers

#life

Oct 2015 J

The Ache of Tired Lungs

Oct 2015 J

Destiny Fleming

The Ache of Tired Lungs

The recollection of screaming and
tears breaks every wave of my
thoughts. The sheets remembered
the melody of you, and I can still
smell you dancing within in the air
of my desolated thoughts.

The screams had made a home inside of
my ears, and I brought them forward
everyday; I just wanted to remember
something of you.

Your tears.
Oh, God.
Your tears.
I drowned in them every night.
I never bothered to learn the
swim; I felt closer to you the
more I struggled to pull a
harrowing breathe from the lungs of
a being I did not recognize as myself.

I felt closer when meals turned into
a nightmare; when my bones stabbed
at my skin; threatening to push through
the shell of me.

I especially felt close when the metallic
barrel of my father’s gun whispered
sweet nothings; appealing demons I had
buried six feet under.

But even though I tried to feel so close
to you again,
I could not forgive the memories
within my mind for bringing
you home to me everyday. -DDF

#love #heartbreak #depression #heart #home #sadness #loveache

Oct 2015 J

Mirrors

Oct 2015 J

Ben McDermott

Mirrors

I hate mirrors,
because they never show me.
Every time I look,
there's a stranger,
sometimes with scars,
other times with red eyes.
He changes his hair,
but his eyes always,
are so foreign,
that he's not from here,
and I don't know him,
or what he's like.

Oct 2015 J

The Mist

Oct 2015 J

niamh

The Mist

Creeping across the ocean
Like a girl in gray silk
Stealing in after a late night,
Shoes left at the door.
Tiptoes over wooden floors.
Trailing wisps of dreams
With the lightest of kisses.

Oct 2015 J

Winter Air

Oct 2015 J

Sia Jane

Winter Air

(1)

I'm disturbed and yet deeply
comforted by my disturbed nature
I'm comforted because my darkness
envelops me-
it may be cold to the touch
rigid and upright
not soft and loving
but it's loyal
it never leaves.

Today, I'm driving
window down to help me breathe
I capture cold air in my wind pipe
I smell November winter air
smoke from chimneys rising-
when I breathe out I'm smoking too
warm air penetrating cold air
I smell November winter air
we're still in October
it's too early for these memories
I'm unprepared- it's too early.

Sat next to me she appears-
a paler, younger, thinner self
a self I'm sure has passed on
to another life
if it haunted me we'd call her a ghost
but she comforts me
shall we call her an imaginary friend?

"You look terrible!" I state wilfully.

(2)

She's dressed in a thousand layers
"You still feel the cold, eh!" I say
She winks, staying aloof
from any possible conversation
I take a tone of similar indifference.

There she is barely visible
so unafraid of death
arms striped with incisions
a razor blade left behind
hip bones, collar bones, chest bones
she's nothing more
than a white sheath coat
pulled over the skeleton of
a human body
skin screaming for nourishment
to show any signs of life.

If I asked to feel her pulse
there'd be nothing there
no beat
no rhythm
"Maybe it's why the fear of death
has left me!" she commands
"Because in your muffled confusion
your muscles wasting
including your brain-
you mistake yourself for dead." I retort
"You're 21 for Christ's Sake!"

(3)

Distracted by a red traffic light
I turn away-
when I look back, she's gone.

So here I am
talking to myself
the ghost of Christmas past
disappears as soon as my back
is turned.

When I'm alone
the silence
is always louder
than any noise I ever hear-
the silence attracts her back
I reach out to her
trace her face with my finger tips
I whisper: "God Bless,"
knowing some memories are meant
to be laid
to rest.

© Sia Jane

Read on SoundCloud:
https://soundcloud.com/sia-jane-words/winter-air

Oct 2015 J

No flowers

Oct 2015 J

r

No flowers

If you think of me in the spring,
think of dogwood petals
in my hair, greener grass
and new beginnings.

If the summer solstice
finds you walking alone
in the garden of the moon,
remember that I'm somewhere
walking alone, too.

If you sing of me,
sing in the fall
in blue flannel and jeans
like the saddest song of all.

And if I pretend to die,
and you pretend to weep,
I promise to do it in the winter
when there are no flowers
to send in your pretended grief.

:) Thanks for the inspiration.

Oct 2015 J

the moon

Oct 2015 J

chris

the moon

and like the moon,
she had a side of her
so dark, that even the stars
couldn't shine on it;
she had a side of her
so cold, that even the sun
couldn't burn on it.

Oct 2015 J

i met Death at a punk show

Oct 2015 J

Pearson Bolt

i met Death at a punk show

she has eyes like ice
and a mohawk the shade
of bubblegum

she's an artist
and a misfit
outfitted in
ethereal attire
the flows off her
alabaster skin
like wisps of shadow
or tuffs of smoke

she chews on her lower
lip when she thinks you
aren't looking and has
a nervous habit of
biting her nails
the polish is chipped
and cracked in some
places and sorely
needs a new coat

at first glance you
might think her fragile
but the subtle smirk
that tugs at either side
of her mouth belies a
quiet confidence
a take-no-prisoners
sensibility
a ****-it-all
attitude

not grounded in apathy
but nurtured in non-compliance
her lack of conformity is more
than some youthful
stage of defiance

she is disobedient and
everyone says they're afraid of her
that she scares them senseless
but i kissed her once and
we stayed friends after
i think she knows me better
than i know myself

she stands in the corner
of seedy concert halls as
cigarettes leave a haze above
the heads of pre-teens and
old metal-heads nurse their
alcoholic beverages
everyone pretends she is
somewhere—or even
someone—else

but not me
we stand together
sometimes we hold hands
and i catch her smiling
out of the corner of my eye
from time to time

Oct 2015 J

He didn't come

Oct 2015 J

Sarah Tayler

He didn't come

Sitting on the park bench
The one with the little etches
Names of forgotten loves
Encircled with a heart that's probably broken by now
My hands are warmed by the cup between my fingers
I sip it, savouring the heat it brings my soul
My favourite beverage, Happiness
Checking the time, I figured he should be here soon....
But he wasn't..
I waited in that spot for years
Sipping on my drink until I was suprised and dismayed to find it empty
The sun was going down, painting the sky and the streets in fiery colours
Setting everything alight but me
He never came....
He said he would but he didn't...
My own Future stood me up.

Inspired by the phrase "Why wait for a future that isn't coming?" -Me

#sad #worry #future #waiting #dismay #waitingornot