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 Nov 2013 rachel
Laurel Elizabeth
I long
                    like
something plush weeping
         into a pillowed hug

of empty oxygen

though I try the Brave Game,
                                         (and usually win)
               flakes of me run
           off my arms and face
and scrounge around the corners of the room
          
                                                           looking for your mellow sting.

supposedly,
heartache
is figurative.
                        But I definitely feel
a              s t r e t c h i n g
mush
right where
the Doctors say my heart
                       should probably be

a slight tremor
(      echoes      )
      through every joint
of my toy frame,
              like a thousand elfin voices talking
                      about your favorite foods,
                      and the color of your hugs.

    the tightening
muscles of my throat
        send their regards to your
amicable eyes

              2.5 is a smallish bird
when one observes
             the blue expanse of my ocean life
but it pecks my most tender tissues
                     when I sit [flat] inside Today.

I miss
      like
someone resized my skin

                                            incompetently.

though I am grateful
for your delicate absence
                      (the elusive Good deserves you most)

I feel as if
the petty bird’s wing tensions
        won’t be satisfied
with the look of my dappled shoulders
till you stroke them densely
with your matter-of-fact fingers.
 Nov 2013 rachel
Seán Mac Falls
A child pools her eye,
Bumble bees swim low in sky,
  .  .  .  Flowers cup the air.
 Nov 2013 rachel
Seán Mac Falls
Beauty could not stay,
Hair— scattered in all direction,
  .  .  .  Wind pointing the way.
 Nov 2013 rachel
Paige
You'll hear from a lot of people, that recover is a road. A road filled with robbers, stealing your happiness, your innocence, your life. Then there are all the mines. Blowing up small issues making them bigger than they really are and exploding right next to you just so you can fall face first on another. And it's endless. Those robbers are relentless and those bombs are everlasting. They don't stop for anyone on a simple whim. Yet at the same time it doesn't last forever. The road does end like everything else in life, but what comes after may not be what is expected either. You may even feel more alone knowing your journey of recovery is finally over. Knowing that you were strong enough to recover, but the feeling of loneliness leaves no man. Loneliness is cruel mistress with bring nothing but self-pity and makes nothing more, but pain. Although the pain usually isn't physically visible, there is pain. The only way you can ever see this pain if you look deep into the victims eyes and realize that they're fake smile is nothing, but suffocating their soul and slowly eating them alive.
Loneliness only sticks around if you let it though. For example. When you're out with friends and having fun. For maybe even a second you don't feel that same loneliness you did before. You feel a moment of bliss wrapped in the arms of hope. But there are certain times where you can be filled in a room of your own heroes and stars and friends. And realize how alone you really are. And then it hits you. Depression.
Depression seem to be such a trend in our society, but in reality it's real. Depression eats you away with such force you feel useless. You begin to feel like you're whole being is drained. All those activities you used to love have no meaning. And all those friends you had just don't seem the same like they were before. Being depressed is more than just feeling useless though. That would be too easy. Depression can lead to an even bigger demon that is only awakened by yourself. It's like you're fighting yourself. A stronger, darker, more hurtful demon called Suicidal.
Suicidal is an evil soul who not only drains you of all activities you used to enjoy, but also fills your mind with even poisonous thoughts. Thoughts that give you no hope for a future or today. The moment you're living in right now means nothing to you, because suicidal ideas have filled with and voided them of hope. Suicidal thoughts give off these ideas that no one needs you around. Or no one wants you around and that the only way to stop these screaming voices to take your own life. The only way to quiet the demons are to steal your memories, friends, loved ones, everything. And flush it down the drain so that everything you have been through previously were almost pointless.
The end though. Back to the end. If you ever manage to defeat all the demons that learned to bring you down then you are truly a warrior. A tiger who earned their stripes. An inspiration. Let the cycle may always start again. So for all of you. The ones in the cycle. The ones just getting out. The ones who give into the cycle. The ones who have been clean forever resisting the vicious cycle. Or even the ones who have no idea where the hell you are into this mix. Know that I love you that you're here. I know you're here, because who else would be reading this. Exactly. I love you no matter who you are and no matter what you have or are doing right now. You're simply a beautiful human trying to make it in this atmosphere.
 Nov 2013 rachel
Catherine
winter has the coldest touch,
it spills down your spin,
into your soul,
you name it silence.

you feel it,
you hear it,
you cannot see it,
but it consumes you.

the monsters below are frigid,
they feel it too,
some grasping for air,
some letting it burry them,
they live within us.

we aren't so different you and me,
from the demons we nominate,
they guide us,
control our intellect.

judgment is corrupted,
theory is no longer our own.

flourish from the ground,
look at the dusk in front of you,
it's your reflection.
you are winters touch of silence.
 Nov 2013 rachel
Sol
One sip of champagne
Call me an alcoholic
One sudden outburst
Call me ******
One tear
And I "broke"

But then who cares?

The second she loses her virginity
Who will remember my name?

Label me as a freak
That's perfectly fine
I knew what I was walking into
I knew I'd stand out
Standing without a care
Facing where there is no path
I'll make my own
Don't you worry
There may be a trip or a slip
But that's what makes me more alert
And even when I can't see
I know you're behind me
Either to catch me, or let me fall
But when I rise again
My face will be painted
Ready for war
Think I'll fall again?
Just try to take me down
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