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 Oct 2013 Pluto
BriarRose
Let me
          dream of
                          beasts
                                    in bed.

Let me
            swallow
                          the blackness
                                            of delusion again.  

Let me
             listen to
                          the
                              quiet sound
of your heart
b
e
a
t
i
n
g

as I
        drift
               off
                    into a
                               land of
                                         perpetual
                                                         tranquility.


Drifting
and
drifting
and
drifting
once
more.

I find


myself



falling


into an



arbitrary



rabid



battle




with

myself.



Falling.





Falling.




Falling.





Falling.




And




then






suddenly




Stop.

No.


I don't wish to stop.


My

eyelids

open

to frantically

scan my

new                                                      surroundings,

                                                                                     that

is yet                                                                                    another



illusion of
                                                                                              myself.



Is this where I belong?




No.





I don't wish to stop.







I don't wish to stop.



I don't wish to stop.






I don't wish to stop



without you.





Don't
         let me  
                   fall
                        until
                                the
                                        placid
                                                 sound
                                                           of
                                                                your
                                                                       heart

b
e
a
t
i
n
g

  

falls flat.
 Oct 2013 Pluto
ECKate
Untitled
 Oct 2013 Pluto
ECKate
Had I pen instead of keyboard I might shred the paper out of bittersweet anger
drab thoughts, remorse
I'm a zombie, just a corpse.

Had I pen I might let the ink bleed ,
unsure of my thoughts and what I might say, instead the curser blinks away

Had I no intellect to stay silent,
I would try to interrogate, scream, just to understand.
I guess that's just what a woman sometimes gets from a man.

This is a bad hour; emotions drained beyond the waking norm.
Disappointment reads thick in thoughts,
each ticking moment set it in,
without means to rewind the clock. stop.

but had I brakes, I might have used.
Might have thought it through
On how cliche , might of thought of what this could do.
It is what it is he did say,
And all along I knew.

© 2015 Kate Volk
 Oct 2013 Pluto
bb
There are gargoyles where your eyes should be. I know that even if there is water flowing from those grotesque trenches, you promised me that you would keep the demons from inside of you, when you were the demon the whole time.
  I have lain at your feet like a bear pelt rug and felt your toes curl into me while you read your favorite book. I have seen all of your dark ways and I have felt every cigarette you put on me in the form of your mouth. You linger in the back of my throat like a violent coughing spell, and I think I loved the burning sensation, and there is no doubt in my mind that when you slam the door I wish it was my body you were shoving into the doorjam.
  If you turn off the lights and you find that you can still see me vividly, you should remember that I know every crease in your feet and every corner of your mouth. I don't easily forget the people I have dropped to my knees for. You are every piece of paper I have ripped into shreds on your honor and strewn across the room like our clothes. Now my heart doesn't feel so good in your hands, does it?
 Oct 2013 Pluto
Shang
"listen to me!" his mother said
"If I see one more tear, you'll never see her again!"

the five year old boy's cheeks
still flushed
his eyes swelling like
a pop-knot
they are ****** red
his chest will surely
explode from the tension
any moment now

he clenches the tube of
ointment in his front pocket
of the new pair of jeans
his grandma bought him
on the way back from
North Carolina

the young boy wipes his eyes,
rubs the bald spots on his head,
noticing his last eyelash has fallen on
the last tear running down his
face

his grandma holds him tight, she says:
"I love you. I'll be back soon."

he can feel his mother's
needle-worn arms pulling him away.
he can smell her morphine sweat.
he can taste her oxycontin breath.

despite watching his grandmother
close the door of her 1990
green Beretta and drive
off Walnut Street and
down Oakford Ave--
the little boy
never cried
again.
(C) Shang
 Oct 2013 Pluto
xxxx
She's gone
 Oct 2013 Pluto
xxxx
They took over

Who?

Depression
anxiety
self hatred


They all took over

Her mind
Her body
Her soul

She maybe alive
But deep down
She's not
She's gone
/drdc/
 Oct 2013 Pluto
Alice Frost
What is perfection, for that which we crave?
We long, we desire?
Does this not cause envy, hate...
Division?
For don't we often embody this "perfection" in a person?
Our aspirations to hope
Similar fates.
Perfection is balance
And yet
We exchange morals for such a thing
Is there really such a thing as perfection?
Every means of obtaining as such
Does not immediately make you believe it
There will always be a compromise to this
Something that will continually obstruct it
For perfection is but a lie
Hidden beneath the mask
Of deceit and desire
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