c 2d
night to sun
whichever one
i am constantly smiling
a barrier around
to remind the strangers i too
am alright

growth underground
i've found out
it is neither journey nor destination
as i am stuck dancing
in the same rain
as once and each time before

i see the sun but feel no heat
the time slicks by slow as a drain drip
pattering me into childhood--
what're two grown hands worth without
an axe
or intent to wave

sleet underfoot
the earth has made enemy of me
and everyone else

where do we float from bone to dust?

do we conserve love once given
or does it go to soil
as well?
BC Jaime Mar 12
I remember gravel
crunching under feet,
sun beating down
a sea of heads. At a booth,
we were offered advice on cleaning
products and chamois.
We walked passed fake gardens,
pet prized-winning sheep,
soared overhead on the sky tram.

My parents bought me a pickle
from the pickle man. Large,
juicy, plump, thick, delectable...
My tiny hands wrapped around it;
my lips sucking delicious juice,
nibbling meaty flesh.
When they’d take it away,
I’d throw a fit; cry.
They should’ve known then.
© BC Jaime 2014 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
b e mccomb Mar 12
as a child my mother told me
i would be a writer someday
because i was always asking
"what if?"

but now i'm twenty
years old and i only
write when i'm
trying to forget

as a child my mother told me
i would be a writer someday
if i just kept asking
"what if?"

but i just grew up to have
an anxiety disorder
copyright 3/11/18 b. e. mccomb
I Suppose Mar 11
Somewhere in the system
It now says I have grown up
That means its time to get an addiction
and get my limp dick sucked
Not by my girlfriend
And not by my wife
No, by the girl my wife knows about
And causes all our fights
I was thinking I should jump
But maybe I should not.
But its always there and watching
I think I've turned into
A Mindless Bot  
One day I will die
And I don't know who would care
Its been fifteen fucking years
since your smiling face was here

So let us toast our glasses
filled with rum and lies
And we can focus on the moment
Instead of our last goodbyes

I can't wait until the day
That I can party hard
I wanna be so drunk I forget
To buy my mom a birthday card
And my dad would phone me up and say
"Dude your life is fucked"
And I'd tell him so is his
And I inherited all his luck.
I wish I could wake up in the morning  
In a familiar strangers bed
And wonder where my pills went
And why there's lipstick on my head.

I know that sometimes it gets tough
When you have gambled all you've got
Only to realize, You're out of luck.
But I really hope that one day
You all realize
It'll all be okay.
Eh, this is more on the "lyrics" side of things, but eh I liked how it turned out
I sat down, words in my head
prepared to write for you, and women too
but found I was at a loss instead

Where to start? What to write?
How can I describe my endless delight
for the mother I hold so dearly?

Working hands, long hours unseen
or artistic moments snatched on the inbetween
No, my words can't describe you nearly

with the justice you deserve, oh precious mother
You're worth more than just a merely

What an unfathomable thing you've done
Carried bubbling life at your abdomen
Gave children to my father- and more!
Gave me little playmates I so adore

My lovely sisters, what great women you'll be!
"I cant express the pride I felt, love, when you came out to me!"

"You, we're so proud, you're almost at the eighteen mark!
I beg you, tell me what it's like to feel that adult spark"

"Oh, sweetie, I would not forget my dear littlest-
though you have a teeny body, you're the most vivacious!"

Thank you, mama, for all the wonderful women I know
and thank you for the life you gave, so I might grow and grow
I, too, am a girl, though a women I'm not quite
But under your watchful care, a great women I could be...
Yes, I think that I just might
Wish I could let you read this, mom. <3
BC Jaime Mar 7
(for my brother, Jason)

I couldn't ride a bike until I was eleven.
It was then my little brother hijacked
my dusty BMX, racing down the hill.
Not to be out done, I learned to ride
soon after.

I've been able to ride a bike
since I was eleven. Seeing my brother
race down the hill like effortless lightning, gave me the courage to ride
like him...like wind.
© BC Jaime 2018 || IG: @b.c.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
at its own

curds from
up into

drifting up to
a wide distance
in their broth
of once-

like a

of gushing
seep out
and down

sunk to the

to never

to never

to never
for it all

sunk right down
to the

rising up

I take care
of my

love nugget

© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield
Real life love is not like fairy tale love. It does not absolve a person of their responsibilities, their cares, their troubles. It doesn't make it so that nothing bad ever happens. And it isn't often romantic.

Giddy-eyed passion inseparable is replaced by an ever-deepening friendship of two independent people. Love solves no problems. It only makes life richer and more complicated.
Katie Parsons Feb 21
Speak quietly
Conjugate words

Show teeth
Stick out your tongue

Scream loudly
Hold breath

Taste flavor
Pleasure him

Speak eloquently
Say ahh
Dani Feb 20
It's smaller than I remember

Not that I possessed many things,
it always seemed like everything could fit in here
even the things I scarcely use;
The woolen jumper that scratches my neck,
The mittens, now too small to fit,
The bandanna with a stain or two
Its strange how things get put away to not be seen again
That is what I am now
in this moment.

I must remind myself to air out my cupboard once I get out.
I'm breathing in the stale air my possessions do
It smells of worn wood and detergent
The smell of a home I've always known.

There is a faint rattling
I try and hold my legs together to keep them from shaking
I hate that all I can hear is my short breath
I don't want to move to rub my eyes again.


A thud.


More thuds of weighted boots

Silence again

My legs are cramping now
That recent growth spurt didn't do me good.
My damn knees keeping knocking together
Mama always said I couldn't keep still

Why do I get the feeling
that once I leave my small cupboard
That I won't be the same again?
My Dad was 16 at the time when Pinochet's men barged into his home. He had to hide in a cupboard as to not be taken away. My family have suffered from this dreadful man's dictatorship in Chile and I will be forever grateful that my family are safe. I suddenly wondered what it would have been like to have to hide in your own home. To go have to grow up fast.
Emm Feb 15
Same old bed
Same old mess
Same old self,
same old, same old

Different time
Different expectation
Different people
Different connection

Trapped in the possessed power of the passed
Those, who never asked

Different world
Different place
Unfamiliar stuff

Ahead of time
Out of rhyme
No one to blame

Aging on,
Here's your stick to find your path
in the dark
Shuffle on,
travel on
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