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 Jul 2018 Ray Ross
Brendan Roher
I remember that comet
Stamped so purely on my white
skin; like some maiden voyage
in my bloodstream.
It quickened, it seems
and I follow through with every
breath; dilated pupils and short, stout
beats.
Though through the coming earthquakes
I screamed aloud at nighttime
when the bitterness was bittersweet
and I couldn’t take that beating anymore.
But I got knocked down—
When you knocked at my door
Late at night
With the fog still clearing;
My blood shone then, right through my skin
And the comet shot out
As my breath quickened and
I wonder when it makes its
Second spin
Straight through this porcelain
And stops the racing
And all my shortcomings
For a silence.
 Jul 2018 Ray Ross
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
 Jul 2018 Ray Ross
Vale Luna
(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.
Forward: from the victims perspective.
Backward: from the murderers perspective.

This TOOK ME FOREVER TO WRITE
 Jul 2018 Ray Ross
Andrew Durst
My death will be liberating.

And I do not say that in the sense
that I am going to find a cliff
and take a good jump off.

No.

I am just trying to find a
clever way to tell you

that I do not know what is going
to happen next.

You see,

there is a
fine line
between
dreaming and
mortality

and

I am finding out for myself
that being in love
does not always
involve

being awake.

And for my sake
I fall in love with daydreams,
nightmares,
hazy realities
and

the hung-over idea

of not being enough.

It is all out of my hands.
                 It is all out of time.

And the only thing I have left to do,
now,


is decide.
Thank you to anyone that reads this.

— The End —