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 Jan 2022 riot
Ali J
waiting room
 Jan 2022 riot
Ali J
fluorescent lights
the faint scent
latex gloves and
sheer nightgowns.
you stand there,
slowly breathing
in rhythm with
the ticking
he holds your hand,
the very touch
the transfer of
between your fingers.
you feel,
somewhat relieved
like if this were meant
you were glad
he was there.

didn't you always want this?
to be swaddled with
twinkling toes
and miniature socks?
was it not you
who felt the movement
and prayed for the unexpected?

the results aren't
even the hardest
it is the waiting,
the absorbing
the acceptance
the denial,
it is the
yet also
the after.

as the blood
swims through
the plastic tube,
the liquified
right there
in crimson red,
waiting to tell,
wanting to whisper
"your life may change,"
you look through
like catalogs
in magazines.

what happens next?
no one knows,
except the specimen
in crimson red.
 Mar 2021 riot
 Mar 2021 riot
i never understood the phrase
home is where the heart is
until i was shaking on the floor of
my hospital room and it was nothing
but walls
and even when i found the energy to
decorate with cliché little things
like fairy lights, posters, my
skeletal “art”
i felt the room swallow me whole
until i was nothing but a grain of sand
my new roommate was a wrinkly zucchini-girl
and i tried not to speak to her
but we heard each other cry in the night
and we never said a word
but i could feel her eyes on me
a girl down the hall
heard me talking about my addiction and
she told me she would pray for me
later that day she pushed me
into a wall and pressed her
lips against mine
then told me i was tempting her,
i was a sin
just waiting to happen
so i sat in the dark outside her room every
night before i went to sleep
and sometimes she would
come out
and hold my hands
and tell me she loved me
 Mar 2021 riot
Elizabeth Zenk
This body is so cumbersome and empty
full of bones I dream of breaking

so ****** the idea has become that
I ****** to the thought

of how great the spoils are of wasting
this perfect body away

I am growing tired of this skin
how it hold me captive

gripping tightly to the ivory prison
I gush, the thought of carving in

A primitive temptress, a ghost of the past
a shadow on white fair skin

How I wish to paint it red, to rekindle my flame again

How cumbersome this body can be

It’s been ******, and hit, and starved, and stuffed
What more could I wish to be done?

It craves the oil in a pain of rage
It loves how my skin must boil

Oh god may I ask
Was this what you intended
When you created man in your image
Do you hate yourself just as so
So am I just another flawed creature born from a perfect god.
Destined to stray from his lies.
My god this self loathing is tiring
 Mar 2021 riot

they say that when you drown,
it's nothing like in the movies;
it's silent.
there's no splashing,
no screaming,
no kicking or crying for help.


and i guess it's true,
for i am drowning --
there is water in my lungs,
pouring into my heart,
filling my veins and escaping from my eyes --
yet i cannot speak.

i am rendered speechless
by you.


i'm not so sure if it's
the smooth white sand
ingrained in your skin,

or the intricate seashells
that are your daintily painted

maybe it's the pulsing red
of a moon during high tide
that shines through
your scarlet lips,

or maybe
it's the crashing waves
filling the ocean in your eyes.

maybe it's the way you sweep me up
and pull me under,
stealing my breath,
invading my thoughts.

or maybe it's how you
are unpredictable.
you are in alliance with the erratic skies
and fickle moon,
and yet,
no one can control you,
no one can predict your next move.


i find it fascinatingly beautiful
how easy it is
for you to destroy yourself,
how you hide within raging whirlpools
and tear yourself apart from the inside.

people are afraid of the ocean,
but the ocean is a part of you.
who knows, though?
maybe you're scared of the ocean too.


beware the girl with the ocean eyes,
for a heart that is eaten away by the sea
can never be whole again.*

 Jan 2021 riot
 Jan 2021 riot
There were red berry trees, with their marmalade skies
I saw gossamer green with my color-blind eyes.
And the roads which spiraled this way and that
Spun a yellow brick road for that silver-haired cat.
But despite all the blue and the green and the red
There's a high tiding chance that I wished I was dead.
Dr. Seuss in his study, dreaming down to his toes,
Was the black and the white that I read into prose.
And that poetry book that was cracking and old,
Held the brick-heavy grief stuck way in its fold.
And the tears which fell like clear droplets of rain,
From my cheeks only soared further into the pain.
"I don't want to hurt you, you're the one I adore...
But hurt you I must, can't you see that I'm bored?"
And down by the river near the colony bees,
Happened a thing that struck even the Queen.
In between mud fights and bruises from stones,
Came the black-taloned secrets and their bellyful moans.
And even among the bristled red berry trees,
and the yellow brick road and the colony bees,
and all the roads which curved this way and that,
and the cellophane green and the silver-haired cat,
There was Death with his smile atoned in faux-white
and medicators to push their manipulated plight.
And even besides the mud fights and blue skin,
There was always a bathroom for us to "play" in.
Slowly I realized, with a chagrin so great,
That this victim of circumstance had a five-letter name.
Thus the only thing waiting for nameless to do,
was to fast disappear in the green and the blue.
Those wilted berry trees, with the glassy grey skies
and the fake plastic green with the shy-away eyes,
and the roads which all spiraled out of control,
and the broken brick road for the cat on the stroll,
all these things might suffice with the brain in your head
but not on the days that you wished you were dead.
 Dec 2020 riot
Amanda Sant'Anna
I once heard there is a city
Where everyone has a different color
And you could see a light green boy
Or a deep purple lady
Walking down the street.

So I bought myself a ticket
To color city, just one way
Today I bought myself a ticket
And trew off all my shame.
I want to show my colors freely
In the city where they're okay.
 Dec 2020 riot
Rupert Pip
 Dec 2020 riot
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
 Dec 2020 riot
The Lonely Poet
 Dec 2020 riot
The Lonely Poet
All. Over. Me.
I. Can't. See.
I. Can't. Think.
They reach for me.
They reach for my body.
They reach for my brain.
But they can't find anything.
Groping, groping, groping.
Hands claw at the air.
Shouting, shouting, shouting.
Where am I?! Where am I?!
The hands reach out once more.
Reaching, reaching, reaching.
But they can't find anything.
I am too far gone.
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