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 Nov 2014 Lacey
david badgerow
your morning breath ricochets
off my cheeks, you're still
drooling dreams into my pillow
my warm, bulky down comforter
hoarded around your petite frame
as i spit my sanity into the ceiling fan
i glance down at you
your face is somewhere else, painted on a canvas
i move a lock of hair behind
your still-sleeping ear with a fluid
passage of fingers and wrist
my thoughts pumping
into the margins of this dusty room

you are a man's sister and another man's daughter
but all mine last night in the bathtub
beneath the skylight my grandfather built
as southern stars too thick for constellations
sang into our laughing faces
and again on the kitchen counter top
my **** made of steel and flint
neither of us minding the extra weight
our sweat became fire and water ripples
as we stumbled into bed like birds
confused by the strobes of spanish candles
forgetting to fly

sunrise dispenses glassy light
deep into my mouth as i dance
across a wet morning swaddled
in awkward feathers and
you appear as a statue in wine colored velvet
struck by light from the bay window
 Nov 2014 Lacey
Enigmuse
My friends all think I'm crazy because I stand in the middle of the street and talk to a God that doesn't exist while high-fiving the windshields of passing school buses. I stopped taking my medication again because guilt taste a lot better than artificial happiness, and I stopped wearing that cross you bought me for my eight birthday because it contradicted the sense of uselessness I received for my twelfth. Life seems a lot less precious when you're talking to your parents in the TV room of a psychiatric unit and look them in the eyes while they tell me not to cry and say that 'pain is only temporary'. All I do is write letters to a man on the moon about the time I realized how hard and easy it is to die. Send me to therapy and make me take pills. I'll smile, but I'll always remember how to tie a noose
 May 2014 Lacey
Bjørn O Holter
Hoppy demon, happy wizard
Turning men into mice.
Rendering even the humblest man
a hero in disguise.
A little poem about beer
 Dec 2012 Lacey
August
Copula
 Dec 2012 Lacey
August
Directly linked to you
I enjoy the feeling
Of cold pillows
But it's ruined
As I feel my life line
Tug like a little string
On the inside of my
Ribcage as you
Move up and down
Jerking my string
With you while
Another string of
Another women
Is in your tightened
Fist
What it's like to have someone say they love you
While they love another at the very same time,
Weaving a web of lies,
When you can see straight through,
And you know what they do.

© Amara Pendergraft 2012
 Dec 2012 Lacey
Kathryn Dixon
You fade...
Like a bruise.

Like the ones your mouth left on my neck and shoulders with its lustful pressure.
Your teeth, which brought moments of bright pain/pleasure,
Are now bared in an artificial, animal smile.

Your lips, which parted to ******* skin like it was salvation,
Barely part now to speak to me.
You whispered my name like a prayer.
You screamed it like a curse.
You sighed it in contentment,
And now you won't even speak it in passing.

Your hands, which half-playfully pulled my hair...
Now won't pause to brush it from my face.

All these parts of you,
None more telling than your eyes.
Those new windows, which once let me pry...
Now have blinds drawn tight behind them,
Leaving only a pretty, shiny reflection-
A passing, glancing imitation-
Of the passion they once held
When they beheld
Me.

No color left to them but the muddy colors of
Boredom,
And possibly mistrust.

You fade...
Like a bruise.
Like the one you left on my mind with your brilliant conversation
And beautiful, rusty prose.
Like the many you left on my tongue...
Which now can speak nothing but trite and meaningless words,
Which now can barely remember the shapes
Of all the shimmering, liquid phrases it spoke to you
That seemed so important at the time.

You fade...
Like a bruise.
Once lover and friend,
Now barely one
And never the other again.
 Nov 2011 Lacey
Katrina Wendt
Whole
 Nov 2011 Lacey
Katrina Wendt
Stop showing
You love me
A little at a time.

Stop saying
You care
Bit by bit.

Stop keeping
Me here
For tiny pieces of time.

Because I need
All of you
Not piece by piece.

I love
All of you
Not just some parts of you.

So love all of me
All the way
All the time.

Or let all of me go
All at once
For good.
2011
 May 2010 Lacey
Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

— The End —