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 May 2013 Melaina
Redshift
hm.
it's may 7th,
isn't it?
12:01am
on the dot.
i forgot...
today is my birthday
today i am twenty
years
old
and i don't
feel a thing.
i am often alarmed
frightened
confused
by my lack of feeling
and everyone says
it has something to do
with depression
hell,
i don't know.

i always used to get
some little tingle
some little thrill
of excitement...
it's my birthday!!!
i'd think...
even last year
the first year
without mom
without anything
normal
i still felt
something...
but there is
nothing.
in fact
i would have forgotten
if some random *** girl
i haven't talked to in two years
hadn't just texted me
happy birthday...

...happy birthday,
littleredwritinghood...
maybe this year you'll get what you want
i'd really enjoy
some arsenic
this time around
i wonder what death feels like
maybe i'll actually feel something
for
once
i guess it's worth a shot
god, i feel like ****. i think.
 May 2013 Melaina
Paul Hardwick
Tonight i feel like one of millions
hear the sound of my life
can you dance to night
all of us waiting for the rain
to wash away the dust of our lives
and make us again feel
then we can get love
and begin to feel again
Yes!
tonight i feel like one of millions.
Please comment I would like a million people to give feedback. well at least in my dreams.
Thank you Paul   :-)
 Apr 2013 Melaina
Tori Gadney
Smokes
 Apr 2013 Melaina
Tori Gadney
I think of you
Every time I reach
For my pack
Fit snugly
In my pocket.
Steal a smoke,
Put it gently
Between my lips
And light it up
Just to take a few
Hits; filling my
Lungs with tainted
Air I wouldn't dare
Wish another
To breathe.

Exhale to the left
So it goes
Along with the
Wind toward
The mountains
And away from
The memory of
You. I remember
How that day
Driving home from
school, windows
Down and a smoke
Between my fingers
Hanging slightly
In the open
Air, when I was
Distracted by the
Sight of your
Car tailing me
All the way home.

Remember how
You kissed me
So tenderly
As to distract
My eyes from
Your hands
Slowly moving
Down my side
Making me
Shiver in anticipation
Expecting more
Like we used to do.
Instead you
Sneak my Spirits
Out of my
Grasp, taking
My crutch away
And all I can ask
For is just
one more.

You kiss me for
A second time.
I say that is
Not what I
Meant and you
Know it.
You smile
And tell me
That's what
Addicts say.
I remember you
Getting out
Of my car and
Break every single
Smoke in the pack,
Finally throwing
Them away and
Look at me.

I don't look
Back. All I hear
Is your voice
Saying words I
Tried to tune
Out but couldn't
Quite get the
Ringing of the
Love I felt when
You finally
Told me I was
Better than this.
I promised I
Would stop and
Your stringing of
Words gave
Me the strength I
Thought I lost
When I first
Started
Killing myself.

Five hundred and eighty-four
Days I stood by my
Word until I broke
And you were no longer
There to pick up
The pieces.
I think of you every time
I reach for a smoke.
No longer keeping
Track of days
Because I have
Been stuck at Day 1
For too long
To know how it felt
To be free from
A crutch I don't
Know how to
Give up.

Or maybe I
Just don't want to
Because every time
I bring that smoke
To my lips to
Take a drag, I feel
Guilt and dread
And no
Self-worth
But
I think of you.
 Apr 2013 Melaina
Anna
Pinky
 Apr 2013 Melaina
Anna
The empty, the deserted, the lonely
Behind the frosted mountains
Comes another day, another bright morning
The broken dream, the unfulfilled promise
Of childhood years seeming ever so dear
“We will run away there,
in a place where no one can find us
where no one can see us,
I pinky promise.”
O, whatever happened to that precious pinky
Did it break? Did it fall apart?
Wishing that pinky was the only damaged good…
Seeing that last breadth
The beating heart muting into an eternal silence
The rosy cheeks paling into a sheet of thin ice
The eyes ... o the eyes
Once filled with life and love, with wit and humor
At times, with tears brimming on the edge,
All looks out as a glassy ball of sea green
Then closing those lids framed by coal black lashes
Only to know that they will never open ever again
All takes about eternity and a half
O the empty, the deserted, the lonely
O, on that hill where no one can find us
Where no one can see us
Waking up to another bright morning
Without anyone to hold
Except those childhood years seeming ever so dear.
 Apr 2013 Melaina
Amelia Browder
You know how a person cuts to relieve their pain?
To rid the sorrows of their cruel reality.
To forget everything in their taunting lives.
To see the blood drip down forming a little pool of pain.
Well writers bleed too.
They may not cut but we are also hurting.
We feel the same pain you do.
The hurt and suffering.
The razor is my pen.
The paper is my arm.
And the writing is my bleeding.
How cute we were,
Elementary.
How innocent we were,
No worries.

Seeing you for the first time
In about a decade.
Your familiar smile,
Your dimples didn't fade.

Childhood friend,
I remember you.
My childhood friend,
Remembers me too.

I am so glad for familiar smiles
And dimples that never fade.
 Apr 2013 Melaina
RJ Deephouse
Ive spent hours contemplating
exactly what to say.
There just isnt enough time.
Im beginning to believe;
no combination of twenty six letters
can accurately describe
a sliver
about this feeling.

please understand that im scarred from pain
the skin surrounding my body is rough with evidence
pulled tight with tension
and swollen with an unforgettable
                             feeling of sadness.
Life is tough,
But skin is stronger.
Spilled coffee staining unfinished works.
Forgotten friends, this town *****.
Lost time, keep me grounded.
Marked skin,
Late nights, four a.m. knows my soul.
Let's not even pretend we're in love.
I left my heart back in Chicago, but home isn't anywhere
yet.
you all
make me
sick
here. My stomach aches almost as much as my heart.
But not as bad.
Make it to med school & get out alive
they all fear zombies now.
but instead we need to fear growing up and growing out.
the truth.
Get lost, get hurt.
I'm stripped bare, nothing.
Next to it, anyway.
My life, they all tell me I am a sin.
Can't change how I am.
it's alright, everyone. I hate me, too.
Almost as much as all these lies
they keep pouring from your mouths, from one of you to the
Next.
Like needles in my skin,
you are strong, all of you,
but I am stronger though, alive, barely.
Now though, I'm getting better.
I listen to my music loud, as loud as the dials will allow me to take it.
boundries.
But only to keep the silence
In my mind, the words to stop forming sentences, those to stop trying to perfect what can't be done.
My hands are starting to hurt, to keep
pulling myself down back to Earth.
My mind, full of medical knowledge,
Can help anyone, but,
myself.
These highs, they are dull and don't last long enough, these pills,
they cost too much, can't make it out.
But they keep me here,
safe. And I know that I'm fine, will be stronger.
Not enough to be here, for the rest of my life, pathetic.
but enough not to, fade. You all see me,
Understand why in the dark of the night.
That you spill love to me as you feel these deep lines on my body, these troubles.
My past.
Forever haunts me, holds me,
Captive. My future, as gone as it ever was.
Will be.
 Apr 2013 Melaina
Tom McCone
tired autonomies, days keep on flailin', seizin'; darlin', I'd
be bolder if only I'd tried. makin' plans to abandon 'em,
the dark reach and tenements of those towers of regret for
all of my inactivity or self-targeted hostility, and those dreams
meant everything to me until awakening into morning hours
or afternoon, more likely, with the dull grip of uncertainty
shudderin' all the windowpanes back and forth lightly, oh
so **** delicately, and I think about you as soon as I've
drawn up ambition to make any kind of move, the pieces of
the vast puzzle I've called your mind for the better part of
the calendar dates I've drawn up into fifteen gauge shells of
the ghosts of my past, those that follow my footprints in evenings,
the pools of aluminium meltings and lemon extractions
to constrict the summer hours, convictions that bleach out
all other chances of hope.

so relinquish your grip on my red and unfolding heart I've
been beating the syllables of your name with, and abusing
the page width of headspace, serving only to alienate the
froth on the shoreline of daring chances: I'd have given
my all at the sight of romance, but I sit here with no
glimpse of intention from you; the crestfalls I subject myself
to, not for the sake of lack of want, but full lack of what
I'd do if I called and asked where you wanted to go at
three a.m. or five p.m., or any other canonical time of
the day; I'd spend any of 'em with you, and I'd
ask, but I'm somewhat sure you're not that into whatever I
could mean, or whatever my words do seem to transcribe themselves
upon contact with your mind, so keep on existing and I
will do the same.

[or, anyway, at least I'll try]
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