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Elicia Hurst Apr 2018
To Polina, my anchor, through all my lives

Between dawn and dusk
on the precipice
in shades of scarlet
stood a magnificent house

Strangers and I were enthralled
by the neon red foyer where
Francesca and Paolo welcomed us
to the house of a thousand doors

Each door an invitation
to delicious desire
each room a seduction
of perilous passion

One door opened —
three bare women holograms
drank from a small lake and
brandished wicked, feline smiles

At my feet a church of cardinals
glowing with tears, heat and sweat
whimpered in their prayers
but the pope watched from afar.  

He speaks—
the mouth at once is an eye, an abyss
and a hurricane from Pandora's box

Then I am I no more — a cardinal in crimson —
but no shame or guilt guides me
when blood-red lips land on mine

"Do you not see
there is equal courage
equal purity
in giving
into
temptation—
the kind
that appals the devil
to revel
in the hurt, the open wounds,
and the agony
to dive deep—
into the depths
and say all the yeses
to embrace the darkest demons
of your soul?

Enter—
and you shall find
hell or heaven within yourself."
Based on a dream Polina had that I find to be all too symbolic that it must be immortalized.

April 2017
Jesse stillwater Apr 2018
The woman in the window
  Looks out beyond the glass
Beyond the reach of her whispers
  Befogged upon windowpanes glance

Farther  than  the  bounds
  Her own breathe imbues
Out of reach her long fingered touch
  Tracing her murmurs on looking glass dew
Grasping for the shadowed artifacts
  Only time does nonchalantly drift past

Perched alone upon a cloud of silence
  Her thoughts eddy in soundless swirl
Spinning like dizzying shadows
  Swallowed by a thirst for light

The other side of window beckons
  Only she knows she’s looking out through a sigh;
Seeing no one familiar looking back ―  
  For what hidden jewels within abide

She dreams of dancing leafless by daylight
  Twirling beneath the whispering willows sway
Just a step away from being free
  Just a step away from feeling alive

With first step beyond imprisoning hesitation
  Crossing over the threshold of a dream
Through a liberating portal outside the glass
  Just on the other side of the windowsill ...


                  Jesse e Stillwater
13th  April  2018
Sam Apr 2018
In a gust of wind, he felt freedom
He felt chains fall from his wrists
Shackles shatter from his ankles
His burdened mind freed from it's cage

And with the wind, he chose to travel
To see the beauty in each tomorrow
No more drowning in his sorrow

At first daylight, he took to the road
Destination still unkown
He traveled light, and alone
His heart was open to the world
Carl Webb II Mar 2018
Tell the story of liberation to my children when you tell them about my death.
Tell them what I died for.
Tell them how long I got to live.

Tell them the whole story, please...
...leave nothing out...

Not the depression, not the sin, not the lies, not the happiness - whether it was deserved or not - you better tell them I was happy, too.

Give them, at least, that satisfaction and tell them I experienced even a little bit of joy...let them know that I did not always suffer...let them know that life can be enjoyed...leave nothing out...
Pluviophilist Mar 2018
Is becoming a runaway an option?
Can escapism, be a relief to this soul full of imperfection?
Or would it all just be a volatile alleviation?

I, I drown in a sea of commotion..
And I get lost in all this confusion..
But you, You are my salvation,
And so my soul rejoices with celebration
Jas Feb 2018
Everything is going to ****.
My body is breaking down, my mind is heavy
And my heart is slouching behind it all.
For the first time, I welcome these pains and I don't block them out -
This is the first time that I'm feeling bad because of my body
Rather than because of the bad things inflicted upon me from other people
And I realize that there are two kinds of personal pain
And I don't know which one is more suffocating or if they're equal
But, for right now, it feels like I'm breathing in
Harsh, clean winter air
Rather than humid, murky vapor.
Ben Meraki Jan 2018
Friends for fifteen years.
Thrown away in five minutes.
Why, then, don't I grieve?
Dani Dec 2017
You are mad at me for wearing my oddity on my sleeves
We can’t choose to have a descrite ,
Invisible oddity
We are get what we are given
We can’t choose our identity
What makes us comfortable
We can’t choose what fixes us
It is the way it

I May look different to you
I may wear my oddity with pride
God knows how long it took me to overcome
The violent outburst from you

Maybe you are mad for I do the thing you wish you could do yourself
Something you deny for yourself
Identity liberation
I can’t deny who I am
I can’t hide
And I never will
I’ve had a lot of horrible stares and comment by strangers lately (mainly to do with being ‘queer looking’) and it really got me down. But I wrote this and felt better snd now all I feel is pride
Gabriel burnS Dec 2017
Dipped for years in sensory deprivation, my heartstrings had atrophied to the point of numbness. Self-harm was my only tool of getting feelings into my system… My voice was screams confined in vacuum. My smile came up only as burns and blisters blissfully stretching on each side of my surface.
Where am I now? I'm out. Prison break successful. My thoughts were the bars; my self-loathing, my walls; my heart was the lock… Did I carve out the key out of my guts? Was it a re-purposed rib? I can't recall. But I'm out now. And I'm real. I gave myself shape and soul. A second chance.
I have two wings; one black, one white… And I… forgave the past. And my veins carry freedom towards my brain, feeding every synapse. Thank you everyone, who loved me when I was the least deserving. May You be blessed!
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