If you've ever had dreams,
Don't ever underestimate them.
Because dreams are
Just a step away from reality.
And reality is a mere metaphor.
What's real is not real and
What's not real is also not real.
There is no line or border
That his grains of sand cannot cross.
I heard the cartoon dinosaur on the ceiling gossip
That I was going crazy.
But the crumbs of the chocolate croissant I ate in my dreams
Are the proof of my sanity.
I sometimes wish I could have nightmares instead
Because at least in nightmares,
I would still be able to be scared.

Ollie 4d

My little brother just told me something strange
He walked into our bedroom and climbed onto his bunk
He’s top bunk, by the way, even though I have my head in the clouds while he’s down to earth
He told me, “You were talking in your sleep on Saturday.”
I wasn’t entirely surprised
I thought he’d probably heard me talking to my friends
I said “oh”
He didn’t stop talking though
He said “Yeah. I woke up and laid awake for like ten minutes. You were screaming a lot.”
That’s what surprised me
I don’t scream to my friends
Especially not when my brother is asleep
I was screaming in my sleep
I can never remember my nightmares
So what was it about
Why was I screaming
The thought of why I was screaming is more terrifying than what I was screaming at
I was working on a bit of art earlier
It depicts me floating in space if you have to know
And I sat on my foot for so long it went completely numb
Not where it tingled
I couldn’t move it
I couldn’t stand
My foot was so numb I couldn’t move it and I think that’s what being dead feels like
Was I dead in my dream?
I used my entire black sharpie to color this piece of paper
It’s almost dead now and I’ve had it for 2 weeks
my hair stands on end in the drawing
I’m curled up you can’t see my face
My hat has flown off
There are stars
I put individual words around it
“All of our heroes fading
Now I can’t stand to be alone”
Bloody send us to perfect places
I’m sure my dreams aren’t one anymore
Someday I wish to live in a world where I don’t want to sleep because reality is better than the escape
Right now I don’t want to sleep because I scare my brother with screaming at things I can’t remember
He snores now
I’m listening to music
I’m writing
I’m not screaming
Not yet
I don’t wanna sleep tonight
I’ll watch some more runaways
Personally I don’t like the name
Not that it’s bad it’s just
I ran away when I was 12
I was an idiot if you need a reason
I wanted out
I didn’t know why I was sad all the time
I know now it’s because depression is a thing I can experience
I just felt so numb
Like my foot
I felt dead
I had these awful episodes anytime I left the house
It was bad
I was bad I wanted to hurt myself a lot
I never did
Not like he did
I miss him
I think there’s a kind of missing someone that’s just missing a certain time
It’s not nostalgia
It’s anger
I don’t know why I’m angry a lot either
It’s not anger actually
It’s passion
I’m passionate I’m not angry
My best friend is an asshole
I’ve kind of realized that
The reason he had no friends when we met is because he was mean
I was dumb
I am dumb
Today I got kind of upset because he’s never seen a Star Wars movie and he went to go see the last jedi with one of our friends
They were kind of insensitive about it
When they got back they had the nerve to pretend to spoil the whole thing
When I got upset they just yelled and got angry
They called me entitled said it was a low blow I was angry about it
Afterward he kicked me out of a server because they thought I’d just yell about it there
I had no intention to
Sometimes I think they just don’t give me enough credit for being a good person in general
Cause I’m a good person and I know I am
But they often tell me I’m not
He said once I have three modes, “angry, feminist, and angry feminist”
As if that’s all I am to him
And maybe I am
I don’t deserve him and by I don’t deserve him I mean I don’t deserve to be put down and then expected to forgive the bully
He doesn’t deserve I’ve stuck around this long
But I’ll go back
I always do
Maybe it’s cause it’s funny or maybe cause I’m scared all the time
I don’t know
But I’m sure as hell not gonna scream about it

Today has been stressful. A few of my friends went to see tlj w/o me. One, I was kind of offended because, like, they just said they were going without anything about my feelings when they know I’ve wanted to see it for years. Then they got back and pretended to spoil it, probably just to make me angry?? I guess I had a right to be a little upset and frustrated about it, especially since one of them has never even seen a Star Wars movie in all his life. Then they got pissed at me because I lied about being frustrated about it. My brother telling me I scream bloody murder in my sleep isn’t helping I guess. I want out.

craving nightmares
that dream beneath
my silent exhalations
into a war-swept land
so dark, so warm
I've been there before
within the trees
among the breath
that whispers softly
inside my head

Cece Jan 7

Nightmares hurt.
The emotional pain,
and the physical pain.
I can't count
how many times
I've woken up
to be
haunted by
my own
and what
I think of.
I can't even
the times
I've woken up
with a
a heartache,
or both.
I can't begin
to reason
why my mind
has such a
of what
a gunshot
feels like.
Or what
would be like.
But I've
dreamed them
so many
It feels
like I've
lived them.
And please don't think
for a second
that's every
There are the
good dreams
The happy ones
is alright.
But those hurt
way more.
when I wake up,
I can
feel them being
torn away
by Morning.

little lion Jan 6


I hate sleeping alone because there’s nobody to distract me from you
little lion Jan 1

my innocence.
stolen away...
twelve years old and desperate for
the love of a boy,
too naïve to know
the difference between

my first kiss,
taken from me by a
who filled my throat with
drugs and
his lips coaxing shivers of pleasure
out of my twelve year old body,
mistaking my whimpers of terror
as pleas
for more.

he took me upstairs,
for my legs no longer worked,
amputated by the drugs he filled me with,
my brain was numb
to his touch,
and it was over
before my mind had even begun
to process the
that should have filled my body
in place of his

it’s gone,
from my mind and my body.
the drugs rid me of the memories
but left behind the ghost
of his touch
to come and play
in the night.

nobody will ever know what he did. I can’t even remember who he was.
little lion Dec 2017

everytime a shiver goes up my spine
I can’t help but remember your touch;
the way your                     fingers laced together against the curve of my back
                                                            ­           while you molded your lips
                                                              ag­ainst mine, fusing my skin to yours.

everytime I see you
I see the smile that I fell in love with
and the pool of lust in your eyes
that was enough to bring
me to my knees
before you.

hearing your name brings me back
to our midnight conversations
in the dark,
back when                                                             love was kind                  
                                          ­           and your words planted flowers in my veins

every breath
reminds me that
after everything
                                                 I was not enough
                                             to satisfy your hunger,
that the taste of your lips
was the taste of a
desire so stale
that it could

now I lay awake
crying in the dark,
wishing for your lips
against mine.
                                                         I just want to die.
just kiss me,

Nathalie Dec 2017

i remember when the trickling sound of rain frightened me; pattering against the windowpane in the dead of night like creaky fingers belonging to my fears.
first, they were the dark, and roller coasters with skittish tracks from old-timey days, and monsters under the bed with long arms waiting to wrap me into them.
those changed, quite how most everything does, into those of melancholy love, and unrequited love, and the constant worry of fairytale endings rattling in my mind until it turned into gunk and spewed out my ears, doing anything i can to get it out, out, out.
my dear, i await the days where there is nothing to be afraid of, though they may not come soon.
we are impatient beings not designed for the way the world works on its own; outside of who we are.
and yes, my fears remain, but no longer am i afraid of the rain.

an oldie of mine
Ollie Dec 2017

I am thirteen, wearing Star Wars pajamas and soft socks with owls on them
A box on my nightstand shows a bobblehead from Harry Potter, either the protagonist or the man who slaughtered
Admittedly I’m a massive nerd
I know that word, I’ve had it yelled at me a lot
But I have the nerve to think to myself, “What doesn’t kill me better run”
And it better fucking run
It better run as if it were being chased by a beast it only finds in its nightmares and can’t even conjure in the waking realm
It better run because I can’t even remember my nightmares but they sure as hell run because I wake up in the morning
What doesn’t kill me better run because it didn’t kill me
It could’ve killed many others who were crammed beneath walls
Who were battling depression in another math class lesson having awful words and “faggot” slurs whispered in their ears when the teacher wasn’t looking
Or maybe the teacher was ignoring
But that didn’t kill me so it better run
When I was in 6th grade I developed this reputation that I was gonna take over the world
I only egged it on because I was nonchalant and because I knew it might actually convince some kids that I’d kill them if they messed with me later on in their lives
I hailed Hitler when I won most likely to take over the world for the yearbook
That game worked
It was just because I was scared
Yet they ran
I love to perform but I have this faceless anxiety I’ve described before
I wrote this poetry to be screamed on a stage
And maybe I’ll wear the ties I love when I do it
I’m not there yet
But I won a second place medal reciting someone else’s when I just found out the anxiety was a thing
I love the man who wrote it
I wanna be there
I wanna be able to scream while balancing on the top of my lungs as if they were a defined space I could watch the clouds move on
I want to scream “what doesn’t kill me better run!”
Like the circle of poetry that saved my life I’ll write some that’ll make somebody rethink the situation
What didn’t kill them already ran so what contemplated killing them is gonna run
Like they were thinking about taking the lion cub but saw the mother lion only a few feet away, watching them with a glare
I want my poetry to be the mother lion that protects the cub
I’m not a lioness but maybe this is lion-esque
We’ll find out when I perform something on stage
Or maybe I never will
That’s okay
I’ll keep posting it online
As long as they know it’s mine
And the monsters from the nightmares I can never remember see it
They’ll think, “what doesn’t kill that better run.”
It’s always been an illusion of strength I think I picked up from them
I think it was obvious when I hailed Hitler for the yearbook
Let’s be honest, I spend my days wanting to punch Nazis

I’ve been thinking a lot about that phrase. I see it in moodboards. We have “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. It’s a good song, but it doesn’t make you stronger. It just means you lived and you’ll know how next time. The thing about that is if you know how next time, what tried to kill you better run.
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