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On the dark side of the planet ghosts and spirits roam, under rocks and sand, hidden like the truth They weep silently, waiting to be uncovered & studied thoroughly.. She said she wanted to have a baby I gave her a kiss instead. Lock and load this cigarette I move it closer to my head, lips on the filter I light the trigger. The same outcome as blowing my brains out. except ones instant & the other is terrible, slowly and painfully destroying me, I decide to stay another night to see familiar faces one more time.. It hurts. Dealing with pain and knowing I'm going to die.
"I need some magic to keep me alive" If I knew how this game was played, The price I'd pay would have been an arm & a leg.
My face is expressionless,Feeling sick to my stomach I fail to cry. I'll hug you one last time, you're eyes aren't open, you're chest is still pumping so I say my goodbyes. stomach becomes like knots, only the sweet breath of a cigarette can untie. Leather jackets & furnished hotels, 7/11 & midnight coffee runs. Too surreal, conspiracies of a wicked crime start to arise in my mind. "This happen to fast Someone is to blame. There is a bad guy" Only time will tell if that part of mind was telling the truth.
 Aug 2014 McKinley
Kenshō
The constant coming and going
Of friends never known.
If I can look you in the eyes,
I can look into my own.

For you have to leave now
And naturally, I will weep;
But, in the ever changing current
We lullaby each other to sleep.

But who is here who would know
That the constant incessant flow
Is natural and beautiful.
He is no where to be found:

He is always on the go.
I am here for you.
 Aug 2014 McKinley
Jeff Raheb
evening
my Japanese friend returns to his room
I sit in mine
listening to the sound of rotting wood
Then she comes again
sneaking past the sleeping attendant
she looks 14
‘You want make nice nice’
No, I don’t want ‘nice nice’, I say again
She laughs
I refuse, leave my gray fungus covered hotel
walk into a temple
Rows of orange robed monks sit all around
Death not a mystery
He lies in front of me
Burning in his saffron robe
Orange smoke spiraling up
joining night clouds and moon
At midnight
they will come and take his bones
Not a mystery
later, I sit with Buddhist children
playing a guitar
They sing melodies of the east
our voices spiraling up
joining orange clouds and saffron moon

It is not yet midnight
Talk incessantly.
Dwell on temporal affairs.
Ask friends for advice; ignore it.
Air out perceived problems constantly.
Respond defensively.
Never take criticism at face value.
Write off whoever won't humor you.
Accuse others of misunderstanding you.
Build your lifestyle on whims.
Presume entitlement to *** for "being nice".
Choose an inappropriate diet for your body.
Avoid personal responsibility.
Refuse to own your failures and errors.
Justify behaviors that create conflict.
Rationalize unfruitful thought and action at all cost.
Dismiss what contradicts your prejudices.
Compare yourself to Jesus.
Insist on your specialness.
Insist that others acknowledge it.
Don't communicate your expectations.
Blame others for your bad choices.
Fish for compliments.
Use sentiment to ply others.
Use sentiment to ply yourself.

Subject anyone to yourself
while the above applies to you.
It's called a "toxic person", ladies and gentlemen.
 Aug 2014 McKinley
EC Pollick
He builds robots
with his bare hands.
He takes the wrenches
and the electronics
and the nuts and bolts
and makes out of nothing
Something.

And even though I don’t even know him.
I think I may love him a bit.

I think about
How he puts things together that weren’t connected ever before.
Fixing that which is broken
Or unmade
Or seemingly unfixable.
And proving the world wrong when this man-made machine
is just as alive as the rest of us.

The discarded
are made
into something with a renewed sense of purpose.
Proving recycling as a totally viable concept
[and not just a fad hippies whine about]
Right before your very eyes.

And as I watch him explain
High level mechanics
to the English majors like me,
I think about my broken heart
and the inability to truly love anyone in the last five years of my life
And I think

Maybe
There’s someone out there
Who can finally fix that.
Seriously, Robotics are ****.
 Aug 2014 McKinley
Megan Grace
sometimes my mouth was too
sharp, my  tongue  was  too
fast, my eyebrow would
arch just a bit too high
and  you  would  get
that    slow   smile
I    loved,    s a y
"whoa    there,
sassafras."
but you  still loved
m e in  my sassiest
m   o   m   e  n  t   s
 Aug 2014 McKinley
Garrett
I ache for our simple pleasures
For our tired, languid, gestures
For our vested, fruitful, leisure
Though our time and distance often measured
While both our suppressor
Let us never accept lesser
Than our treasured
Than our together
sap game on 1 hundred

— The End —