There I was in my almost clinical white coat
Looking like Yoko Ono, oh no, didn't realise it at all.
Strolling all around the front square,
You in that tan coat stood there,
Looking like something out of  Harry Potter, I presume.
I'd clocked you at the protest a year before,
And you fell for me that first day,
Early September, leaves not yet falling
Me eating an apple a day.
It was the last fruit of summer,
I was still in love with someone else
And as summer became autumn, and is now becoming winter,
I honest to god can't tell.
I can't help myself.
I can't help myself.

You in our second meeting- but the first 'meeting'-
Acting like my very existence was bad for your health,
All this merging and converging like its two countries joining together,
I knew that you liked me, in ways you've liked me forever.
But I wanted to make him come back to me, wished on a spirit
To take him back to me, wished for the truth and- what did I see?
The last fruit of summer, an apple tree.

I was so nervous, I bit my lip so hard it bled,
I come from the Hughes', I lie then, instead.
Your red filaments, burning, yearning, twisting, turning,
Kissing me and hugging me like you've never wanted to hold onto a thing so tight.
I feel like a wild horse penned in, flying by night.
Because I know that you're mad about me
Honest to god I wish I was too,
But I don't understand what stops me from letting go and loving you.

It was the last fruit of summer,
The final kiss from the earth,
I wore all black, you in florals
Me not knowing my worth.
I want to take it slow, and you agree,
You'd agree to anything I want because it's me.
You and your artistic set, fashion-obsessed,
Everything I could ever want, everything you could ever spend.
But nothing that I really do want, in the end.
And I ask for the truth, to the apple tree,
I tell them- oh god- is this ruining me?
I cut it and eat it piece by little piece,
'I can't help you, darling, so just sit back and eat.'

A surreal landscape,
A elegant bend of the river,
A small pebble taking shape
For us its now or never.

A song once sung
By the chirpy sparrow,
The grass where we belong
Now captured by the hollow.

Somewhere far away
Few words get scribbled
Few tunes get murmured,
Wrinkled faces prayed
But on the yellow sky,
The sun faded and faded...

By Arcassin Burnham


I'll never have a dance with a girl that I've
Had my eye on since the first day,
I'll never see the neon lights and all ball room
Fights they like to have in these good days,
There's more to being a boy sitting all alone
And never being on the dancefloor,
But do I give a **** about all those things I'll
Never get to explore....
At Senior Prom,
At Senior Prom,
At Senior Prom.....

So when I hear them talk about the life I've always lost about
What to wear and what car to drive,
Or if I say I never wanted the same to go through what every generation
Has to go through they'll step on my pride,

Ain't the **** supposed to be segregated away,
Don't wanna live in reality,everything is just a phase,
What if I gave all of my time and never let it go to waste,
It's funny how life works , nobody will dance with me anyway,
At Senior Prom,
At Senior Prom,
At Senior Prom.

It’s common in the human race,
They helped their son to death.
Might as well have covered his face
And robbed him of his breath.
They gave him everything he wanted
The dear child of their hearts.
But their bestowal of gifts, a bit vaunted
Were about them from the start.

The parents wanted everyone to see
How well they treated their kid.
But when it came time to say ‘no’
They went someplace and hid.
They ironed out the bumps in the road
So the kids never had to learn
What they should do when that road
Takes a sudden calamitous turn.

So, the kids, ignoring all good sense
Listened to their peers instead
And started finding external means
To fill up the inside of their head.
They learned life could be postponed
And so could ever growing up.
They could find some kind excitement
In something rolled or in a cup.

And who was there to stop their plunge
Into a kind of lost weekend life?
It certainly wasn’t their father for sure
Or his confrontation-free wife.
No, they didn’t want to **** the kid off
Because that would mean strife.
Let’s just leave the kid alone and watch
As she meets her demise over life.

It all started out when parents chose to
Become their kid’s best friends.
So, who was there to teach them things
Like hard work and discipline?
Who showed them the rewards to be found
In learning to postpone gratification
When they were sitting in front of the TV
Grossing out on mental *******?