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Her eyes are dying embers...
Her skin's cracked porcelain...
Her soul's a spring; she's coiled tight...
Oh! Where do I begin?

She's dying from the surface-in,
But there's a danger lurking there--
Betwixt the hunks of rotting meat;
Beneath the mounds of matted hair.

Her hands are crooked razors...
Her ******* are melted wax...
Her womb will bear only darkness now...
But her heart holds out for more attacks.

Her spine's a fuse in dynamite...
Her bones are all but dust...
But there's still malice in her mind;
A mind that's caked in rust...

She's decaying from the outside-in,
But there's a monster 'neath the husk.
A being built of horrid things;
Of claw and hoof and tusk.

Her voice is winter windstorms...
She draws in her toxic breath...
Her muscles crack like autumn leaves...
She is a sight of withered death.

She'll score your flesh with talons...
She'll strip you of your flesh...
She'll bottle up your insides,
In an attempt to keep them fresh.

She's a curse that comes from inside-out,
A plague that yearns to maim.
A rage that yields to only one,
But no one knows their name...
 Mar 2014 Rachel Ueda
Traveler
She slipped through my hands
So many years ago
Her face has never faded
Her touch I’ll always know
She haunts me in my dreams
Her innocent little face
I’ll notice she is missing
And my heart will start to race
I’m running down endless streets
The panic holds me down
I’m crying out her name
But she’s nowhere to be found
If only I could make her know
The heartache that I feel
Ever since I lost her
This cut that never heals
    

BAD DREAMER Part 2
re po
 Mar 2014 Rachel Ueda
-
I do think you're the best
my heart you stole
not like the rest
a flawed love
with a
simple
touch
You’re just the kind of person
some lost adolescent would go home
and write a ****** poem about
at 2am in hasty cursive
scribbled on stained notebook paper
wrinkled from careless handling, using your being
to bring some riddle of the subconscious
into an acknowledged existence— and then
destroy the evidence, rendering it
undiscoverable to humanity—like everything else
she ever kept
too embarrassingly close to her heart, because
when she was a little girl the adults in her life
told her that there certain parts of yourself
you always kept private
that are a no-no
to show to anyone, and those
perpetually invisible parts
are covered by your swimsuit and your stoic reserve,
the eggshell guarding your psyche—that if anyone
forces themselves in with enough effort, you’ll break
all over them
and stain their sacred feet
with your messy insides that never
seem to go back in
once you’ve released them,  which will
leave you eternally wishing
to retreat into that perfect little immaculate white shell,
undisturbed by your own humanity.

I deprive myself of glances
I would love to take of you, but that would mean
that at some point you would
grow suspicious and
perhaps conjure the ESP
I seem to think everyone has
whenever I have a secret about them I’d rather
they never figure out—but I have to admit,
you’re beautiful.
I wish there were words
precise enough to explain exactly how
I just ******* love
how you stare at the world
with a poet’s wistful empathy, peeking
discreetly through the one-way mirror
of well-guarded sensitivity,
eternally wearing a gaze reluctantly masked
with an adaptive weariness just
transparent enough to expose
brief silhouetted glances
of vulnerability.

You’re just the kind of person
I wish I had the courage
to let into
my psychological fortress
constructed with every accumulated brick
of accumulated cynicism
that materializes
from living in a world that
muffles every voice
it makes want to scream, even if
no matter how old I become I’ll
always be some lonely kid standing
outside of my own person, eternally yearning
for somewhere safe enough
to have a broken shell.
Maybe medication is the answer for me
I'm sure I'd like it a lot more
If you shoved pills down my throat daily
Than all of the words you put in my mouth
 Mar 2014 Rachel Ueda
Emily Tyler
I have a boyfriend
I shout to myself,
Pinching my upper thigh
And blinking away from
The sight of them.

She giggles and I notice
Her laugh is lopsided
And she's too short
To be that loud.
Her shoulders are too far forward
And even I notice the
Gross stain on her
Upper left canine
Between her braces
That are bright, neon green.

She's my best friend.

I don't mean to think of her in that way,
I love her like a sister.
But it pops into the front of my brain
When I see them together.

I don't even like him
In that way
Anymore.
I have a boyfriend,*
And all he was
Was a whispered fifth grade crush.
That's what I tell myself.

He looks at her like
She's a million bucks.

Her crooked teeth
Earn her six cents,
In my opinion.

I take it back within a second,
But the thought was still there.

Jealousy makes me into a monster.
the street was my mattress
the sky my sheets,
dreaming of a car roaring
and squishing me
but for all my honesty
still death I cheat
I want to leave.
please Reaper, please
ride your midnight stead
scythe over shoulder
dead flame and worn teeth
grab hold my shoulder
split the earth
pull me under
split the earth
let me sleep
Daniel Magner 2014
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