For the first two months of college I didn’t speak
Convinced everyone here are hillbilly freaks
Then you asked to borrow my paint brush
Long brown hair in a bun and brows so lush
I gave it to you in a heartbeat
Because you were the first person I thought was neat

Im still not sure how I got so lucky to befriend you
I’ve never felt a connection this real and true
When we sit in the forest smoking **** and cigarettes
And you’re still wearing the same paint covered sweats
Singing to Rihannon by Fleetwood Mac
I felt myself gaining my soul back

I can’t decipher what’s hiding behind your dark brown eyes
But your passion for art is as tall as the skies
You inspired me to change my point of view
Maybe this place isnt so bad, who knew
Your kindness cracked my heart’s thick shell
And painted the lines with shades of pastel

No boy ever told me they cried when they moved away
Your open and truthful soul makes everything ok
The freckles sprayed on your cheeks are like artwork
That’s a companion piece to your crooked smirk
I cried thinking we would drift apart once school’s done
But you told me we’ll always be friends in the long run

So
Thank you
Thank you for being my friend
Thank you for being who you are

I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.

Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

I could be walking down the street one day, blasting Rihanna or Fleetwood Mac, jamming so hard that I don’t see the bus coming. I could be walking with a book in my hand, reading until the very end. I could be paying total and complete attention, imagine the impact before it arrives.

And I’d really, really rather not die with some confusing statement I said sitting in the phone or the thoughts or the memory of someone I know, care about, need.

I know how it is—we all want to be mysterious. None of us want to get hurt. None of us want to look desperate. So we wait to respond to texts, phone calls, emails, Facebook messages, Tweets. So we communicate our emotions in how we end our messages (no period this time? Really gonna get them.). So we say vague, half-statements and expect people to read our minds.

But what if we died?

What if the last thing you ever texted that girl was, “I don’t know, whenever,” when she asked when she should come over, even though you really really wanted to see her right now? What if you were head-over-heels in lust with some beautiful human in your Lit. class but you chose to wait 15 seconds before texting them back, only to never get the chance to text them at all?

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the bus is coming.

(So go text them back.)

-Rachel C. Lewis

It took my love, It took me down
Called my inside to be found
And I saw my reflection in the mirror of your face
Till the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I write what's changing the ocean inside?
Can I hold the reasons for my life?

Mmm, mmm, mmm

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes it bolder
Even music gets older and I'm getting older too

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes it bolder
Even music gets older and I'm getting older too
Oh, I'm getting older too

Awh, take my love, take me down
Awh, you called my inside to be found
And if you see my reflection in the mirror of your face
Well, the landslide brang it down

And if you see my reflection in the mirror of your face
Well, the landslide brang it down
Oh, the landslide brang me down

On love and astral travelling,
Through the stars we're wandering,
On the universe we're pondering,
My eternal love, Napoleon,
Intangible man, but  full of fun,
Our jewelled cloak of stars,
We've journeyed from afar,
Shape shifting, glittering,
On love and astral travelling,
I'm no Carlos Santana,
I have no scarlet bandana,
I am the oestrogen,
Old Josephine,
Where haven't we been?
I have no testosterone,
You're my "Yes, master!" Napoleon---
On love and astral travelling,
Sentimentally wandering,
Are you Angelus or Incubus?
Reminiscing, reflecting,
Comical groupies for loving,
On love and astral travelling......

By Arcassin Burnham
Original Lyrics By Fleetwood Mac


Situational views with over determination ,
I don't need a judge or a saint , thanks for consideration,
Poked eyes don't see the evils that go on in this country,
Some people could hear them calling from hell , it must be comfy,
Plant life can't even really get a stance without people building buildings
Over them , there ain't a chance,
But nothing to a country boy that just works with his hands,
But not in a country so doped by wickedness , do you understand?

Listen As My Heart Grows,
Watch us all rise.
Running towards the Meadows,**** deciet,
**** your lies

And if you don't love me now,
While your heart is dipped in sin,
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain",
(Never break the chain)
You've broke my soul somehow,
We can't just sit here and pretend,
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain",
(Never break the chain)

Listen As My Heart Grows,
Flowers all in sight.
Running In The Meadows,hide the dark,
Embrace the light,
Your Love is stricken,**** deciet,
**** your lies,

And if you don't love me now,
While your heart is dipped in sin,
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain",
(Never break the chain)
You've broke my soul somehow,
We can't just sit here and pretend,
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain",
(Never break the chain)
And if you don't love me now,
While your heart is dipped in sin,
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain",
(Never break the chain*)

Never break the chain,
Never break it with your family,
Never break the chain,
Never break it with your friends to be,
Let the link be stronger like protecters,
Keep your enemies,
Closer, in world full of broken hearts and a lot disclosure,
Is a lot to be saying for a kid that lives Florida,
We need closure for these posers that make greed a rare exposure,
Ain't no,
Signed sealed deliver **** when it hits the fan,
And nowadays being a man that dies is mostly a black man,
My opinions just stirs up so much conflict in comforting someone about the
Truth and it's allegiance,
Killings happen , it repeats and,
Don't let them open up the season.

Chains keep us together,
(Run into the shadows)
Chains keep us together,
(Run into the shadows)
Chains keep us together,
(Run into the shadows)
Chains keep us together,
(Run into the shadows)
Chains keep us together,
(Run into the shadows).

on the night i touched you everywhere
i cried on the drive back home
thanking god that i'm not broken after all

you listen to fleetwood's "everywhere"
when you think of falling in love
i listen to it too and imagine you

there are pieces of you everywhere
in my bed, my shower, my soul
reminders of our love forever there

when you left me, i hurt everywhere
an ache i had never known
there is before you but no after you

i still want to be with you,
everywhere.

Fleetwood was good
but not as good as
Blackpool and her golden mile
Blackpool made us children smile
Fleetwood gave us fish but
Blackpool made us wish the
day would never end.

i remember the first time bryn brought a boy for christmas
his name was chris
and we had to distinguish between him and my cousin chris
so we called him gay chris
because he had lots of pockets
and he always looked better than my cousins
who hardly ever tried to look presentable.
i remember last christmas
how damon gave elise
sweaters from a thrift shop and fleetwood mac records
and how happy she was.
i never wanted to be allie from the notebook,
and i never wanted you to be noah.
in the 8th grade,
hidden between shelves of a torn-down library where i'd sit for hours,
was a short, thick book with pages of romanticized post-it notes
and the smell of sawdust.
dash and lily's book of dares
was all the things i'd been dreaming about.
the first-glance feelings in the middle of new york,
the warm feeling melting through your bones with an even warmer drink.
i've always wanted a chris
or a shaina
or a natasha.
i've always imagined thanksgiving day going differently for once in my life.
when my uncle asks me if i'm texting my boyfriend,
i want to say "yes, actually" and i wanted to find a boy
to take to my grandmother's house.
i wanted to show him
how tristan would pay me to go sneak him cookies,
and the way we fought over couches.
but now we took all the couches out of the basement,
and i think someone else is living in that house.
but there's still thanksgiving,
there's still an extra seat at the table,
and i'm not sure but i think justin is bringing maya this year.
so when it is my turn to go around the house and say hello to everyone,
and my uncle asks, "how many boyfriends do you have?" teasingly,
i can smile and say "just one"
and it can be you.

can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
can I handle the seasons of my life?