PJ: Favorites

Oct 2012 PJ

k.m.christman

Forever ago,
               maybe,
I had done this before,
                            but growing up had pushed it aside,
      disregarded it as child’s play.

           Yet somehow as I listened
           to the rain
                        pounding against the auditorium roof,
the child in me
               awakened
                     and now I stand
                     breathless,
with my pant legs soaked, as
          he looks at me
                     and laughs
                              and takes my hand to walk me
                              to the dry and warm.
But before we step onto the sidewalk,
              as we linger there in the parking lot
in the swirling space between young and old,
       I can see us years ago
as 8 year olds dashing through nightfall
          to splash ourselves
joyously
               as we did tonight.
   And for all the maturity I pretend to have,
             my soul sheds a
                 raindrop tear
for the simple happiness

                                                            I have lost.

Oct 2012 PJ

The Slick Click of Her Tongue

Oct 2012 PJ

Charlotte Roth

The Slick Click of Her Tongue

The slick click of her tongue
sliding away from the roof of her mouth
as she opens her red stained lips,
and pops the tablet past them.
The faucet runs, currently the only noise in the house
and she fills a little paper cup,
listens to the dribble as the water slowly fills it
the pill is becoming sour in her mouth.
She raises the cup, faucet still running,
to her lips and quickly knocks the medication down her throat,
shivers as it grazes against the muscle there.
The water follows soothingly after it,
and she takes another swig for good measure,
then another to wash the taste out of her mouth.
She spits it out, and looks at herself in the mirror.
her hair is sticking up all over the back of her head.
she hasn’t had it cut in months,
hasn’t washed it in days.
She’s vaguely starting to resemble her father and wonders
“Is this what death looks like?”
She has no idea.
The coroner wouldn’t let her see the body.

Oct 2012 PJ

Leavetaking

Oct 2012 PJ

Akina

Leavetaking

I wish, I wish, with all my heart
That we never have to be apart

And even now I see your face
But someone else is in your place

There's a stranger in your skin
Why on earth did you let him in?

Freedom hurts sometimes...

Oct 2012 PJ

Oh January

Oct 2012 PJ

Nora Wilson

Oh January

Oh January,
Your sweet breath chills and cleanses,
Promising hope for the new. Hope for change.
Oh January,
Your ice is welcomed with crossed arms,
Your touch is pushed away while I wait for warmth.
Oh January,
Testing the strong, killing the weak,
Giving passion to those who make it out alive.
Oh January,
Bringing back the old to meet the new,
The past to compete with the present.
Oh January,
How full of puzzles, and ideas, and ideals,
Wonder, and confusion, and power.
Oh January,
How I can’t wait to see what you’ll bring
And how I can’t wait for you to leave.

Oct 2012 PJ

A Nameless Soul

Oct 2012 PJ

BT Sanders

A Nameless Soul

A hopeless, lone voice utters forgotten words to a face that does not listen.
Stammering sentences pour freely, punctuated by pungent breath of whiskey and ale.
All eyes become affixed to a ghastly silhouette wrapped in soiled linens and unkempt dignity.
The cold counter becomes a temporary stop for old addictions, awaiting their consumption.
The dusty bottle of companionship had been carefully chosen from the lowest shelf, available exclusively to those who can peer no higher.
Down and out, yet reliable.
Time is still as wrinkled currency’s born from shallow pockets.
Onlookers multiply as patience wears thin.
Upper class egos radiate through brand name clothes and purchased pride, looking to hasten their already rushed existence.
The lone voice bids farewell to the face whose ears do not hear, and awaits the bitter sting of a December’s frost on the door’s colder side.
The rust laden jalopy bellows a white haze into a black night, willing to make the final journey despite all impending odds.
The nameless soul boards the chariot but fails to grab the reins.
A deep slumber ensues, while dreams of listening faces lift a fallen spirit.

Oct 2012 PJ

Beyond My Skin

Oct 2012 PJ

Cece

Beyond My Skin

You
are the first guy
that has ever touched
more
than just
my b o d y.

We spoke today for the first time in exactly a week.

Sep 2012 PJ

What are your greatest fear in life?

Sep 2012 PJ