Gazing down at me
In starry eyed brilliance
The apex of your pleasure
Reached with sweated brow
Clenched teeth and moans
Energy released leaves love's scent
Heady. Hazed. Humming.
My body curls into yours
As worked out lungs catch up
To our finish line

We were all saddened to hear of the death this week of one of our hardest working citizens. Someone else. When Someone else died it created a huge void in our community that will be difficult to fill. Someone else was with us for many years. Someone else always did far more than a normal persons share of the work. Whenever there was a job to do, overtime to pull or a meeting to attend, one name was always on everyone's lips. "Let Someone else do it". Whenever there was a need everyone just assumed that Someone else would volunteer. It was common knowledge that Someone else was the hardest worker in our neighborhood. Someone else was a wonderful person who often appeared superhuman. In all honesty, everyone expected to much of someone else. So now that Someone else is gone. What will happen to our schools, our children, our churches, our community? Someone else left us a marvelous example for us to follow. But now who is going to do the work Someone else did? Will it be you. Or will it be Someone else.  R. Mendoza

Dead girl swinging from a tree
As breezes blow melodically
She sways almost erotically
Blackening necrotically

She loved a boy who said goodbye
And laughed at her when she asked why
She thought that she might like to fly
And swing, and choke, and lastly, die

The noose around her throat, she jumped
Her neck bones snapped, her long legs pumped
'Til every bit of breath was gone
Now it's the wind she's dancing on

Her flesh turns putrid, then it slips
Insects crawl upon her lips
Flies infest her, north and south
Feasting on her crotch, her mouth

Some days later, she is found
Split skin sagging to the ground
Hung from a noose so tightly bound
Dead girl dancing 'round and 'round

If I was a mountain

That soared towards the sky,

With craggy snow caps

And stormy grey eyes-



Then you'd be the clouds

That swaddled my peak,

That silenced my thunder

When I tried to speak.



If I was the earth

The desert, in fact:

With arid dry soil

And mud, baked and cracked-



You'd be the rain

The downpour that soothed;

The balm to my bruises,

Relief to my wounds.



If I was the Moon

In the indigo night,

With stars as my blanket

And silver; my light-



Well you'd be the Sun

Just always behind

That lent me your glow

And caused me to shine.

You may have died young,
        but as long as
        my words live,

*You will never grow old.

Mum spilled wine on the patio
*The may flies are going to be drunk tonight

Butterflies dance upon my wrists, showing the world a boy who's losing a mental battle. A boy who wants a metal skater to gracefully slid upon his skin, melting it to red water. But those butterflies, those multicolored saviors fluttering about me, are alive. If I allow that metal dancer, so elegant and clean, to preform upon my wrists then those butterflies will die. One tiny cut, and they will bleed with me. So it's my job to protect them, and their job to protect me. The light that shines from their silky wings scares away the dark demons within me. As they flutter through the darkness, their small voices whisper to me. Things like, "Don't give up" and "You can do it." When I have nobody else, they remain. I can hear them singing in my head, my friends upon my wrists. When I feel sad enough, I'll give them another friend, another savoir to dance upon my wrists. And I know I'm not the only person with butterflies fluttering on me. I hope that one day that they, as well as I, will have the courage and the strength to let our little butterfly friends fly away.

encased with passion & desire,
love & lust he waits for her still,
a muse

he's restless & listless, his heart beats,
& bleeds, catch up, catch up,
a muse

leaking lover lost through, a dripping soul,
red raw, vulnerable, closed,
a muse

a fragility so unknown to her, a naivety,
oblivious, at risk from all men,
a muse

he couldn't have her, so he destroyed her,
she disallowed all men in,
a muse

denial & unfazed, she's dazed, confused,
he watches from the sidelines,
a muse

this obsession won't hit him,
or maybe the day she is gone, he will,
a muse

drugs were a power, greater than her,
releasing caged birds, an angel above,
a muse.

© Sia Jane