A month ago I sat in class
in a New England School for boys
Now, I'm in a bomber group
Adjusting to the noise

I made plans for Harvard
A doctor, I would be
Then my life would turn
In a way I didn't see

The war was on in Europe
We saw in the press
But, 18 days before Christmas
we were pulled into the mess

Future plans were put aside
Our country we'd support
We'd forget all of our future thoughts
We'd join, though not for sport

We signed up down in Boston
Young men flyers, soldiers all
Preparing for a battle
Many would not live till fall

We thought not of our future
Our present, all we had
Many dead by Christmas next
The thought is truly sad

You do not what you want to
But, what needs to be done
You go from boy to man so fast
You've barely walked...now run

Think back on those who made it
Remember who did not
Young men they are forever
They deserve a longer thought

The air is pure and holy
It is scattered with young souls
Boys, now men who went to war
And put aside their goals

Use me,
Abuse me,
Don't look at me,
Just through me.
Force yourself
Ontop of me,
Then let me grieve
Quietly.
I lay there crying,
Soaking the sheet,
The uneasiness within me
Starts to repeat.
Hit me,
Quit me,
Don't love me,
Don't lust me.
Break me,
Shake me,
For God's sake,
Heartbreak me.
Tell me when it's over,
Tell me when you're done,
And as long as I'm crying,
Just know that you have won.
My body's weak;
You make it weaker,
But you keep taking,
You push deeper.
And then at once,
You're up and gone,
They ask for a description,
I tell them, *"the Devil's spawn".

At dinner, Zach asks
about our nation's history, wars.
I say We're taking on everyone, one at a time.

First Britain, then Britain again: "He was the surly English pluck, and
      there is no tougher or truer, and never was, and never will be."
Next Mexico: "Death is indifferent to what hide he tans; life crushes
      men like flies."
The War Between the States: "Well done, Mr. Cromartie. Time now
      for rest."

Most of Latin America: "Not only humans longed for liberation. All
      ecology groaned for it too. The revolution is also one of lakes,
      rivers, trees, animals."
Then Southeast Asia: "The slight bump the mortars make as they kiss
      the tube goodbye. Then the furious rain, a fist driving home the
      message: Boy, you don't belong here."
Now the Middle East: "A land to be admired like all lands. Harsh
      mountains and deserts, indigenous plants and people, adapted
      ungulates, carnivorous mammals."

Can't forget the Krauts & Nips: "Then I heard the bomber call me in:
      Little Friend, Little Friend, I got two engines on fire. Can you see
      me, Little Friend?"
Nor the Commies: "You mixed up farewell to an epoch with the
      beginning of a new one. I put this book here for you, who once
      lived, so that you should visit us no more."
The original indigenous people say: "In time we'll become prosperous,
      or else we'll become martyrs. The force that placed us here cannot
      be trusted."

my time has come; true love, please
take my soul into the galaxy of your
hand, spin me into orbit around your
dreams, dance with my devotion to
your desires, feel the fire burning in
my eyes when our celestial bodies
collide—we are one divine moment
apart, separated by the future tense,
misled by mundane mirages of fear,
the gray unknown that steers our fates
astray; but my time has come, and
so has yours—align me into your
constellations and know that I already
belong to you; I beg you to risk the
impossible; it's all that's left between us.

"you know this is insane," i gasp
carefully dangling my feet
as he kicks back and forth
with force that scares me
for our bodies that will soon
be broken on the ground
if he keeps it up
"i know, and i dare you to tell me that isn't the reason you came."

Mechanically scanning her brain
For a sliver of inspiration
Where are you now
Sheltering deep inside?

Making up words and rhymes
Occasionally aesthetically appealing
Something to please the masses
Or maybe just herself

Holds onto the end
Of that thin thread
Cautiously tugs on it
Hoping it leads somewhere

Connecting her brain to her fingers,
The thread weaves a tapestry
Of words, carefully crafted
Bringing satisfaction