“Do you love me” she sighed trying to catch his gaze. He looked up frozen like the frosted winter leaves, unable to catch his breath in the icy air. For the first time in his life he had been breathless, she captured every gasp in the back of his throat that soon turned to sand. His hands turned numb and lifeless, her hair still twisted around his nimble fingers. She could sense his sheepish nature and wary presence. With her hair still tickling his fingers he finally had the courage to look her in the eye. This moment had not turned out like he planned. He turned his head away from the flowing river. Falling straight into her ocean blue eyes he allowed himself to swim in them. “I have never stopped”

-c.j.w

Scorn memory of the Hallowed Day
When under company of friends
Stolen a leaf from the frozen tree
And taken in your own attend.

However, nigh far nor long you rested
Until were you wrongfully contested
For such display of lecherous feelings
Unto a heart of another beating.

Struck down, but still noble and undefeated
Gathered your courage but strength depleted
And still even later, hunger for the sea you feel
Cries for more: "Oh god, the craving is real!"

The words you have spoken bring joy to us all
Despite spoken unknown in the intoxicate sprawl.

Extroverted goes great with introverted.
Supposed to be extrovert in search of
beautiful, yet honourable girl, to pay
attention to. Even though I don't have

courage or a great body, I'll try to win
her over. It's showering with closed eyes,
searching for the faucet, hoping to pick
the right side, or maybe left. Waiting

for the water to drip on my soft, not
hairless skin. Will it be too hot, too cold
or just perfect? Then there's still shampoo
to worry about, better smell the bottle first.

Suddenly the water comes out, first dripping,
cold, then flowing, warm. Too much tension for me.

It wakes close to midnight
yet her eyes are closed
for she does not want to see
her tears streaming on the first
the first hour of the day
yet she will stir and shiver

It wakes so close to the time of dreams
as the tears fall from her eyes onto her silken pillow
in her garden of despair and loneliness
the birds of despondency start chirping
all seems to be getting colder and darker
this is the most scary of times

I fear to write any more
for I think it wakes
I better lay down
put the covers over my head
I will pretend to sleep
or even sprawled playing dead

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2012 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

my life has been a big joke
never taken seriously
nor seriously taken
mostly just laughable, memorable
scenes you would place in an indie movie

imagine the most contrived and self absorbed
cinematic extravaganza
that always ends in happily ever after
now in place the high school version of me
and play it on repeat
welcome to my life
as simple plan would say

on my average every day
you could count the amount of times
i think of nothing but myself
only if each was a dot that freckled my skin
only if each was a non perishable in a food donation bin
but in the latter case you wouldn't have enough
and when I realized that
the daunting reality of human depravity
is when God became so much more real
when he slapped me across the face
and blood dripped from my nose
not from the brunt of the blow
but from the hand of the innocent
not just the one who was sent
but the ones who cannot be sent
cannot be moved
and cannot escape
trapped
in someone elses sick idea of prosperity
someone's sick idea of "making it"
the only thing we're "making it"
is someone else's hell
and when God slapped me across the face
he said to me
"LOOK AT MY CHILDREN, MY CHILD!
LOOK AT MY CHILDREN
BEING STACKED AND PILED
LOOK AT MY CHILDREN BEING REJECTED
NEGLECTED
BEAT
HIT
ABANDONED
MY CHILD
I hear their cries
i hear them breaking
their hearts being crushed under the pressure
i see their homes being taken away
i know the depths of darkness they experience
each and every. day.
my children they are suffering
my children they are lost
broken
sprawled out on the floor
being made into each others tool of satisfaction
and that's only a fraction

my children
run to them
not away from yourself
towards me"

that's when I started taking God seriously
the day I realized that this world is too ******* up to be able to even cope

now my life isn't a joke
because my life may be someone else's hope.

Some memories
Tap-tap-tap
At my brain
Like a bird
Hammering
With its beak;

**** on my
Window sill.

This poem is for the insomniacs.
This poem is for the people who can't accept the fact that they're fading away.
This poem is for the people who remember every little detail of their childhood.
This poem is for the people who can't remember what they ate for breakfast.

This poem is for the people who starve to watch their children thrive.
This poem is for the people who cry during every movie.
This poem is for the people who gamble their lives just to feel alive.
This poem is for the people who write in the margins of library books.
This poem is for the people who lock their keys in their cars.

This poem is for the people who consume their thoughts with words of wisdom.
This poem is for the people who wander the streets of big cities in search of an absolution.
This poem is for the people who have had their hearts broken more than once.
This poem is for the people who have forgotten how to love.
This poem is for the people who fight for a better tomorrow.

This poem is for us.

The people with weak flesh and strong minds.
This poem is for us, the people that try harder each day, even if they don't get the outcome they originally desired.
This poem is for us, the people who are still waiting to live in "the land of the free.."
This poem is for us, the people who will do anything to be noticed.
This poem is for us, the people who find it difficult to cope with life and death.
This poem is for us, the people who trek on unappreciated.

This poem is for us.

The people who are simply human, just trying to stay alive under the pressures of humanity.