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 Dec 2013 Magdalyn
Dánï
I'm not afraid of the dark, I'm afraid of what's in it.
Your worst nightmares come true- truly horrific.

You can't escape it, no amount of light will help,
Once it's begun, it's inside of you- becomes a part of your self.

You'd think having someone beside you would suffice,
But what if they bring the dark? What if they are just someone who plays nice?

You can never be too careful,
Better safe than regretful.

Wish the time of pain and reminiscing would end without putting up a fight,
We should all know bad things mostly happen at night.

Maybe the restless days would then stop,
Maybe then there wouldn't be a time to sob.. just a thought.

Is it childish to have at my side, a night light?
Debatable.. but at least it illuminates the dark.
At least it gives the illusion it isn't melancholic hours, yet- it isn't night.
At least it aids my corrupted mind and bruised heart.
-d.***
 Nov 2013 Magdalyn
Alex Hedly
As I lie awake at night I can’t help, but think
Think of all the things that person said to me
Think of all the ways I’ve embarrassed myself
Think of all the things I said to that boy
While he wasn’t giving me a second of his time

I didn’t ask for this
I didn’t ask for these thoughts to run through my head
All these ‘What if’s and ‘No, not that’s
I didn’t ask to get chocked up every time I talk to someone because I’m afraid I might say something I might regret.
And yet, that seems to be every word that tumbles from my mouth
Like a faucet full of remorse that can not be shut off

Watching other people I can only seem to hate them as I pray to some sort of all-powering being that I will be able to over-come this
That one day I will be able to freely roll words off of my tongue without wishing I could gobble them back up.
And yet everyone else is able to do it
They are all able to say what they want
To express their opinions with no second thoughts
With no worries that someone might disagree

Every morning is a struggle just to pry myself from my sheets
To face every day with a smile
Because lately even picking out a outfit I find exceptable seems torturous
And then half way through first period I decide I shouldn’t have worn it

And there’s no escape
I always have this weight on my shoulder that is weighed down with nasty words my brain has formed
Picking at the slivers of self-confidence I have left.
Like a hungry Vulture cleaning up scraps on the side of the road

And some people have to power to fix it
They become stronger
And learn how to be better
And I? I lie awake at night. And I can’t help but think
“I have feelings for you,” she said. “Oh, I’m
Sorry, we’ll have to get you better,” he replied
Handing her some cough-syrup and a bunch of pills.
“I don’t want anything from you,” she said; meanwhile, she
Proceeded to hide her heart in the pocket of her jacket, so that
He wouldn’t notice how intact it was.
“How did it happen?” he asked.
“Who knows? I guess I stared
Too much, but do not
Worry; it’s not
Contagious.”
He nodded
And thanked
Kissed her cheek
Omitted a goodbye.
They went their own ways.

A few minutes later she was inspecting her pocket
“Why did you do that? He could
Have been the one,” said
Her heart.
She didn’t reply.
 Nov 2013 Magdalyn
Anna2000
First month, first seat change. we were on opposite sides, no interaction. I relish this, i am not a
BOLD or EXTROVERTED person
some might say I am shy or introverted
now that the time has come, I am not ready to change seats,
to take the chance of sitting closer, forced interaction,
I am nervous,
but am calmed with the thought that chances are, we'll be seated even farther apart,
I was wrong.
our elbows will brush, our knees will touch, our gazes will meet.
I hear the words coming out of the teachers mouth,
but  am stunned into silence ,
my whole being shaken,
our names are called,
our seats given.
To some, this may seem silly, immature, an overreaction.
For them, this may be true, in this situation calm, collected, thinking: this is no big deal.
But with dread curdling in your stomach as you snap to,
stumbling to your seat,
this is an earthquake shaking the earth, a volcano spitting ashes,
a panic attack waiting to happen.
and it pounces.
seated, trying not to squirm, to shake, to ****;
wondering what he's thinking, trying not to stare.
he thinks you don't see,
the glances he shoots the short foot between you,
thinks your engrossed in the teacher, the clock, the pencil
any thing but him.
But your any thing but engrossed, you see every shake, gaze,
fell every brush of the hand.
Finally, this long hour is over, the mixture of excitement and torture has come to an end.
As is to be expected, on your way still in has gaze, you trip, you stumble, your face cherry red;
embarrassed, but thankful,
that he doesn't have a class with an even more abundant chance of embarrassment.
over the day,
you forget the way he gazes,
his shy way
different from the others,
the way he's taller,
in a way that makes you feel safe, flushed, happy, even if their is no chance of him being yours.
But then lunch comes,
you sit down,
ready to devour food that can only fill your stomach, not your soul as much as you wish it would, or
could;
but looking across,
you spot him, watching you,
his gaze surpassing the walls of people, as much as a shy person wouldn't like,
is it coincidence that he found the one gap with a view of me?
is he staring at me?
what to do?
with all this questing running your mind,
your appetite flee's,
and so do I,
to my safe haven within the books.
tomorrow, the nervousness has subsided, its over, your over, its done.
but then, on the way to first period,
our paths cross,
glances exchanged,
blushes made.
You know that this is not over, not done,
the time has come for class to begin.
I've tried to forget, to overcome this nervousness, but I've been defeated,
ground to a fine powder of nerves by a crush.
our knees bounce in anticipation,
our pencils tap,
our feet twitch.
time to share the book,
the dreaded closeness.
Finally it happens,
the brush of the elbows.
we both feel it,
the sparks that glow blue,
the cheeks that grow red.
we have been given a gift, a chance,
to overcome shyness,
to create something wonderful.
but to take that chance, to accept this gift means time, courage.
and every day until then,
this tension will be relieved
and i will be a nervous wreck.
We started on opposite sides,
but fate pulled us together, forced a chance.
now we sit close, still tense, still wired,
but strangely happy,
exhilarated,
alive.
to this day, he still sits in the gap :)
 Nov 2013 Magdalyn
JC Lucas
Imagine meeting
Someone
Who has never met anyone
Before
Who has never seen the stars
Or had a conversation
Or walked through the park on a day like today
Who has never listened to music
Or eaten pumpkin pie
(Or anything for that matter)
Or loved
Or painted
Or played
Or laughed
Or sighed and said that it's getting late.
Who has never prayed
Or written
Or read.
With no tattoos
Or scars
(Inside or out)
Who is healthy
And surrounded by people committed to their
Well-being.
Someone without clothes
(Or any possessions)
Without a moat and a drawbridge.
An open book full of blank, white paper.
Imagine meeting
Someone
New.
 Oct 2013 Magdalyn
Allison Rose
I am on a shelf.

I am in a jar
     many jars
     my heart and brain and stomach are stored
     apart like ancient Egyptian princes
     preserved for burial.
I can put my heart in one place,
     and bury my body in another.
I can split my consciousness into a thousand little tchotkes
     preserved in piles of papers
     and colorful leaves picked up on a breezy autumn day.
I am a jar of flour
    and a ceramic bowl of honey
    with a little wooden spoon to scoop me out.

In this little wooden farmhouse, the shelves are filled with memories.
Leave a piece of me on the shelf here;
    Tuck me in between photographs
    and baby teeth.
Let part of me rest in the peace of Polička.
 Oct 2013 Magdalyn
Marti
Free fall sensation in the dark
invited dizzy dreams
spark singed skin

the last time I felt like I do when you touch me
I had stuck a necklace in an electrical socket
to try and figure out how the lights work
I thought I could take the energy
I thought by touching it I could understand

Except for that hurt, and you are the opposite of hurt on the same intensity
just with fingertips
except for I understand alternating current now but not this

You make me want to make sculptures
and bad jokes
you make me write but the words come out like dogs off the leash in the park

Next to you is the place where I fell asleep at the beach
and woke up warm and sun-washed
where my body felt like it belonged to me
and the waves had washed away the smell of wet cities and
old growth trees

Next to you is banana pancakes with strawberries
and silence is a round comfortable thing
like hobbit feet
like blanket forts
safe and temporary constructions
inventive nomadic shelters
lovely places to spend rainy days

You are like aloe-vera gel
and I've been forgetful and spent to much time in the sun
trying to breath in life but got hurt
but it doesn't feel raw when you slide over my skin
instead its tingly bits of mint and blue
like gypsy wind chimes and spicy food
 Oct 2013 Magdalyn
Anna Vigue
No one understands
the power of pain--
it gives you all the pleasure
It gives them all the shame.
Does it make you feel good?
No one else left to blame.
You can feel your heart pounding
adrenaline in your veins--
all the aspects of death
are one and the same.
An empty soul
without even a name--
Will the pain ever die?
Will emotions ever tame?
Fighting and killing,
it's all one big game--
in a world that only
revolves around pain
This poem was written by me at 14 in the early 90's
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