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 Feb 2015 asg
Francie Lynch
I recycle,
I reduce,
And when it's healthy,
I reuse.
That's how we deal
With tin can blues.
 Jun 2014 asg
Victoria Ruth
Not quite sure yet
What I want to be
But so much pressure
Just to get my degree

I’m young and free
Even crazy and wild
Don’t you even dare
To treat me like a child

Though I can’t help but think
Where will I be in 10 years?
Will I finally have courage,
to face my worst fears?

Will I still have my boyfriend,
who I’ve been with?
Do high school sweethearts
exist, or is that just a myth?

Should I go get drunk,
this weekend with my friends?
I got invited to another party
The fun never ends

Wait I’m kind of insecure
About my body and weight
Why am I still awake?
It’s getting pretty late

Yet I still haven’t started
Any of my homework
Who cares anyway though
I mean my teacher’s a ****

I’m under so much pressure
Because I’ve got to graduate
But you try being a teenager
In a world filled with hate

Overthinking killed the teenager
And that teenager is I
Overthinking every thought
And I don’t know *why
"Teenagers"-People who are treated like children but expected to act like adults.
 May 2014 asg
SG Holter
I sat at a table with Death.
I ate from his plate while he
Pinched from my snus.
We were drinking, and not unamused.
He was quite a good listener; took in
Every word.
He laughed at my jokes, and my
Stories he heard
With a keeness about him,
Charisma and charm,
So far from a force of such terror
And harm?
Not once did he hint at my life or my
Soul.
He paid for my drinks and for
Every bowl of
Nachos they served as we sat
Through the night.
Laughing and sharing until
The first light.
The best of my times. As if on
My request.
Then Death sat his cup down, put
Thumb to his chest.
Belched and stood up, took his scythe
And said: "Boy,
You went as you wanted; with
Beverage and joy.
Now leave every worry, forget
Each regret.
Come home and lay down, you have
Earned right to rest.
No second of Life that you lived,
You'll forget.
I sat at a table with Death.
 Dec 2013 asg
AJ
Just A Thursday
 Dec 2013 asg
AJ
My day wasn't unsuccessful.
I got what done what I needed to get done.
I think the same song has been on repeat all afternoon.
Wine drunk, staring out the window.
And I mean really drunk.
And I certainly mean really staring.
It's so foggy here up on this hill.
All you can see is a blur.
The very bottom of the blur is orange,
But that is just because of the streetlights
That are out in the parking lot.
The rest of the blur is purple,
But an orange-y purple.
It kind of hurts your eyes to look at it.
But it is beautiful and sad,
And not sad like how your mother hits you
Or your cat gets cancer
Or you relapsed after four months.
It's sad like when you realize
You're 4/5ths through an amazing movie,
Or when you see a surprise military homecoming
Or you unpack in a new home.
My room mate won't be back
Until much later.
I don't mind.
I need some time
To get wine drunk and stair out the window.
And be sad.
But it's not quite as beautiful as the blur.
That's okay anyway.
I'm in love with my fiance.
And my best friend.
And my cat.
And my little sister.
And all my new dresses
That I ordered on cyber Monday.
I'll be doing just fine when they come in.
When I make it through the orange-y purple blur.
Pray for me.
Because my toes are cold,
And so are my arms, and my cheeks, and my chest.
But my eyes and my outspoken tongue are on fire.
Mark Twain asked this,
And now I want to know, too.
Why didn't anyone ever pray for Satan?
Hundreds of centuries have gone by,
And no one prayed for the man
Who could have used your kind words
The very very most?
WHY?
No one is praying for Satan,
Someone better pray for me.
Maybe one of your gods will take pity.
None of mine have.
But they say I'll be doing just fine when those dresses come in.
You know?
When I make it through the blur.
"I'm sipping on some sunshine
I'm gonna leave it for the morning in the afterlife
And she's drunk by the day time
I bet she feels it just the same, not anymore"
 Nov 2013 asg
Emily Tyler
I sent it
At three AM
On one of those nights
Where silence gets violent
And I'm alone in my head.

I told you about the
Tiny pink pills
And how
If I took eight
I would sleep forever.
I gushed that
They were hidden
Under the toothpaste slathered
Countertop
In my bathroom.

I told you I loved you
But that
You weren't enough to stop me anymore.

I did actually consider it.
It was one of those nights.
But at some point,
As I laid on top of my comforter
And shivered under the fan,
I realized that
You weren't going to wake up
And convince me out of it.

I also thought
About how my mom was
A light sleeper.
How the floorboards would sound like
Orchestras
And the cabinet
Would be the symbals
To her.

I fell asleep
Numb,
But naturally numb,
And woke up wondering
What you would say.

You didn't say anything.
 Jul 2013 asg
Kam Yuks
A small furry tummy grows with pride and recognition. The day is new like fresh air and baby lungs. The trappings of usual experience have gone unnoticed with each wayward smile and shared glimpse.

Is this a dream?
What is real?

Silence guards haunting stories with latent thoughts streaming uncontested by a busy mind. If there is truth, then what is humanity? Who am I?

Do you feel ashamed too?
I'm not the leader I once believed to be back then.

I'm more machine now then ever before - lacking substance, strange entangled, my very best worst friend.
 Jul 2013 asg
Shashank Virkud
Two hundred years
can pass between a page.
Two hundred years
can pass between a day.

I've laughed and died
along side the best of stems-
blue stars- I've swallowed
every shade of that hue with no shame.

I've seen the picture of Dorian Gray.

I've held pearl white,
brazen beauty in my hands,
but gambled it all away.

I've been there,
I've been somebody's light
refracted through their prism,
coloring them in so many ways.

I've been given
amethyst sequined nights;
along with other pleasures,
I gifted them away,

because
I've seen the picture of Dorian Gray.

I've been given
such expressions,
you, the pallid, petrified
rose. But I am in the
ivory, I am in the alabaster-
I serve no master-
and no one can make me stay

because

I've seen the picture of Dorian Gray.

— The End —