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 Aug 2013 Mare
wm jones
you and me?
 Aug 2013 Mare
wm jones
you and me?
yeah,
our kids will bathe in paint.
look like that colorful zebra
from the brand of gum that i can't
think of the name of
she'll have your ears and nose,
and lips if she's lucky. my eyes, my short legs
my love of spicy food.
he'll have my hair and nose,
and good teeth, eh, maybe.
he'll be born with your tattooes. maybe my dad's sense of humor.
grow taller than any of us, turn into a tree.
span the view of sky from the tips of you and me.
she'll cradle this planet's ashes in her hands,
and he'll hold our hearts together with duct tape.
she'll have your voice and my phrasing,
a hybrid accent in between.
this is the best hallucination i've ever seen.
 Aug 2013 Mare
Kendra Garcia
At seventeen I am almost grown.
Almost old enough to own a home of my own.
Yet, i remain viewed as young, naive.
Told I am too young to know what i believe.
At seventeen the world drowns me in a sea of questions it doesn't want the answers to.
At seventeen everyone thinks they know whats best for me,
"....grow up, be a part of your society."
Don't worry about happiness that's a selfish priority.
"...grow up."
But at seventeen its hard to differentiate between hopes and reality.
It's sad you can do anything you believe,
but i fear it's a lie, we've all been teased.
The proof?
On the streets.
An endless stream of people who've had their dreams seized.
I dread the thought of this stream consuming me.
Me?
Me?
At seventeen I don't know if I am me.
Or just everything that's ever been crammed down my throat into a part of my brain I cant pronounce.
At seventeen I've fallen down a rabbit hole.
The queen of hearts pounding me with every cliche ideal every adult has told me to believe.
The white rabbit screaming to me the time.
17..18..19
I just want to leave.
I am only seventeen.
But if not this rabbit hole where?
Just a new nightmare?
Filled with symbolism I should get.
Things I should know.
Seventeen is plenty of time to grow...
grow up.
But I am only seventeen.
I am only seventeen.
Am only seventeen.
Only seventeen.
Seventeen.
I am seventeen.
At seventeen the world says I am almost grown.
At seventeen I am scared to have a home of my own.
At seventeen I question everything I ever knew.
But remain unchanged.
Remain floating through life without a clue.
One little pill is all it takes.
To lift you up and out of the numb.
Flys you high and makes you forget about the scars that cover you inside and out.
But only for a second.
One little pill is all it takes.
To drop you ******* your ***.
Leave you scrambling for your next lithium fix.
Feeling even less alive than you were before.
For the rest of your life.
One little pill.
 Aug 2013 Mare
Showman
First there is the prep.
The roommate.
Wearing salmon colored pants.  
He has Shaggy from ****** Doo
On his left thigh.
The alcoholic.
She has a drinking problem.
She is in denial of her drinking problem.
She hangs out with the loners.
The loners.
Unkempt, unattractive and fat in all the wrong places.
The blond looks like Tom Petty.
The one with dark hair, glasses and braces
They live next door.
Living together but segregated. 
Wild cards.
All of us.

©Gambit '13
 Aug 2013 Mare
Jacqueline Flores
We started talking again
and I thought
"maybe we can finally just be friends again"
but
once again
we started being how we were before
you started being the most you
and I stopped ..
          stopped lying to myself
by putting words into my mouth that my
mind would say
        not my heart
I laughed
and said
"I can never just be friends with you"

j.f
 Aug 2013 Mare
Hannah Elizabeth
First, there was the sweetest boy,
who played the sweetest song.
He gave me all he had to give,
until all he had was gone.
I lapped up his love like a cat,
without the thankful purr.
And with nothing left to give me,
he left to play for her.

Next, there was the quiet boy,
with fangs beneath his lips.
He whispered all the things he felt,
and loved me with his hips.
But he could not keep his promises,
always wanting more.
The day he left it rained and rained.
I melted through the floor.

Then, there was the angry boy.
All he ever did was scream.
On quiet nights, when the wind is right,
I hear him in my dreams.
For him I would move mountains,
but I would probably do it wrong.
On minute, spitting in my face,
and the next minute he was gone.

Lastly, there was just a boy.
No words that can describe.
With a lack of substance to his mind,
but a fire in his eyes.
Though ever kind and caring,
my heart I could not give.
So, missing more than just my point,
he left our life to live.
 Aug 2013 Mare
Jasmine
One of those meant to be free
They say if you follow her when she wonders you’ll find her talking to trees

She’s one of those mysterious souls, always lost inside herself
Contemplating matters of existence, dreaming of metaphysical wealth

A place of paradise, where all is free of pain
A space that flourishes with the manically insane
A collection of minds feeding off debauchery
A gathering of souls to rebel the hypocrisy  

Armed with a mind full of soldiers, ready to win this war of expression
She knows it’s up to her to lead free the life she’s destined
 Aug 2013 Mare
Alex Podolski
Mascara
 Aug 2013 Mare
Alex Podolski
I took off my makeup before I cried,
In hopes of preventing streaks.
Mascara is a tricky thing.
It hides between lashes.
Streaks are expressions of my pain.
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