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Kelsey Banerjee Aug 2020
plastic:
straight, good posture
white and abrasive as baking soda
thrifty, ideal of motherhood
hosting new years parties and other
get-togethers for the kids while sipping,
socially, of course, a margarita,
she buys her children, ruddy-nosed
devils, gifts while their friends stand with empty hands,
letting those other kids,
kids with empty pockets,
sit to the side,
and know their place.

steel:
another mother she
drives thirty miles to pick up a daughter’s friend,
male, lanky, and for cops
the wrong color at midnight
from a gas station in the wrong part of town
which is really just code
for poor and less white
and she takes him home to
sleep on the sofa
gives him hot tea
and in the morning pancakes with eggs
she doesn’t ask about the bruises
on his forearms or his heart
she just feeds him and drives him
to the library with a sandwich in old Tupperware
he doesn’t need to return
although he does with a thank-you note
and gratitude in his heart,
despite all the bitterness around him.
Wilder Aug 2020
It's like a catalyst
Where I'm running out of words
Because the words I can't say
Aren't there
It's the
Feeling old while I'm drinking coffee
Feeling young absorbed into a book

Almost feeling me when I
Reach that space
In between

There's a moment staring at the tv
Excited because someone got kissed
Seconds when I write a sentence
Knowing it's nonsense
But there's a pause
And falling to one side
(My back acting up)
(Giggling while I run)

Searching for a domestic peace
Being pushed to the side
Searching for

Growing up
Maybe

It's hard

Tensions that shouldn't exist
Tensions that aren't seen by anyone else
Pulling away in an effort to walk the line
Searching for a balance
In between the tension

It feels like a catalyst
Like something I don't know yet
Kapu Aug 2020
When it seems like I am not partial enough to see,
and my third eye closes inwards hoping to understand.
When I see myself from  high above,
from far away of what I am and used to be.

Every year the same person.
Every year the same discovery.
Every day of each year thinking that the conclusion will be different.
And every instance of realizing: It´s the same as before (What I am resolving)

Nothing moves or evolves.
Is it that my essence is intact or that  I have yet to comprehend and mature.
Am I good enough the way I am now?
And if so, who I am?
What is my connection to myself?
Hours of going around in circles of what seems like detached introspection.
Alan Abstract Aug 2020
"Grandma stop eating elderberries or you'll get too old!", cried the child. With a wink and a grin grandma purred, "now now child I will regain my youth with pork brine, youngerberries, and wine."

Along the spread of the table was real lunch as comforting as a cradle:
White hills of processed vanilla cream with the sparkle stream
A viscous yellow sea of elbows and perhaps other limbs
Overlapping ketchup crusaders reigning supreme over the dinosaur chicken nuggets

What lies beyond the table is the watchful and wise grandmother
"Grandma! Grandma! Gimme the big SPOOOON"
With the big spoon in hand the child combined the canvas and proceeded to shovel everything down until swelling like a balloon
-They grow up so fast-
B Jul 2020
when i was young
i tried to rewrite history
because i could not stand
to bear it all on shaky knees

i burned the old pages
drew a big x
through any future
i could foresee

the embers, they fell
snowflakes gracing
torched ground
and i ached to flee

to a place
that could hurt me not
i desperately rewrote the history
but in safety, i became the enemy
basil Jul 2020
i can tie my shoes
all by myself
am i all grown up yet?

i ate a whole subway sandwich
without ever putting it in the fridge
am i all grown up yet?

i cried on the bathroom floor
at my first party
am i all grown up yet?

i held the pieces of my heart
in my hands
am i all grown up yet?

i wish i was a kid again
not knowing how to tie my shoes,
and taking three days to finish a sandwich.
going to parties that still served fruit punch
and believing in true loves kiss.

i think that means i'm all grown up, now.
i miss velcro.

07.25.2020
Ananya Jul 2020
It's two blue ticks mocking,
With a Lucifer smile.
An "I don't know know"
To a "what are we"
Feel it, touch it,
More real than
The blood oozing out.
Holding your own hand,
For warmth in the night
Crying moonbeams.
Estranged self and the
Spaceships are empty
Cardboard boxes again.
No.
Not darkness.
It's the absence of somebody
To share your light with.
It's words. without souls.
And people. Without meaning.
It's "nothing
It's a "let it be."
Isabella Jul 2020
if a knife goes dull after it's been used too many times,
why does life feel so dull right now.
it's not that i've done everything i could do,
it's not that i'm worn out,
but i've simply lost the childhood spark
that used to gleam in my eyes.
and i'm not sure how to sharpen the useless knife
that is life.
a moment in time, captured by a few poorly written words.
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