I have yet to truly live my life.
I sit in my room, gazing at my pen, my weapon.
The bane of my existence.
My cocoon.
My choice.
As I write in my journal, I ask myself, "What do I have to sacrifice in order to move ahead?"
A dark chuckle ripples through my room and I look at my reflection.
As I am clad in a white robe, my mirror is clad in black.
Holding black.
Being black.
The only truth is the gold pen in her hand.
"Sacrifice," she murmurs in a venomously sweet voice. "All things require a sacrifice. Why should the pen be any different?"
Red lips curl up into a smile but her eyes did not. All
they did was bore.
"Perfection is not controlled. Perfection is raw. Sacrifice for your desire, or your desire will be sacrificed."

I had a dream the other night where I was scared of the monster chasing me. The road ahead of me split two ways and I was left to make a decision. You or him.
One would be my savior, the other my destruction. So I ran to you, no hesitation, you were my safety, my home. You held your arms open and I ran into your embrace. On contact you wrapped your arms around me and the world disappeared along with my fears.

My guardian angel, my best friend.

He licks me like I'm fragile.
Like I'm so unique, so delicate, so irreplaceable, that one false move and I could be gone forever.


He leaves prints on my skin and comes back to retrace them the next time we lie in bed together.
Surprised to see that his fingerprints existed on me hours before.
The first time I sat on top of him and wrapped my legs around his waist,
I heard seagulls in the distance.

I felt the last traces of sunlight fall behind the hills and I smelt the warm river water,
the smells of the earth kept me grounded,
placed me closer to the moment with him.
My body fell,
the way his skin seemed to trace mine so perfectly.
I didn't have to escape.
I could shoot my eyes open and watch the scenes of the empty beach
while I felt him push deeper inside me,
felt his teeth sink into mine,
felt his fingers curl
around the places I needed him to touch.
I inhale the moments where he keeps his eyes on mine,
where he says my name,
where his hands slowly slip my pants off.

I gulp them up and swallow them whole,
doing everything in my power to absorb the time I have.

The time he is here,
he is present
and he can't resist me.

I feel him in scenes,
I hold my breath waiting for the plot to change on me
and I kiss him in the spaces that smell close to home.

I wait until the morning sunlight slips in through my window,
the red sun illuminates the dashboard, his hand travels to my thighs
and I whisper what I want to say,
what I shouldn't say.

I used to tell you "be safe."
Put on your seatbelt,
Don't speed,
Don't do anything reckless-
Don't do anything that could leave me
Without you.

Now I find myself
Driving 40 over the speed limit,
Without a seatbelt on,
Visiting all of the places
Where I miss you the most.

Karisa Brown Aug 25

Where are the towers
We crumbled together
Why won't they rebuild for me
When I need protection
From my own greed

What kind of spell
Did you put on me
Opening my heart
To you was silly

Now all I want
Are my wings
So I can fly away
From the shame
That I failed you

Love

Like an infant in a womb
I swim in my safety
Glass bubbles and faces
Exploding all around me
So I close my eyes
Pretending that it's night
Still clinging to the residue
Of a love I once thought true
Am I a complex enigma
Or an intricate simplicity?
Signals of water droplets
Fall within the extraordinary
Subduing the beating fire
Raging in my soul

Leila Whitney Aug 21

Society is currently a haze.

Trying to cover the polluted air and water.
It has made it seem alright to exclude yourself from the chemical slaughter.
  Can you not hear the suffering. Because  do. I hear it in the buzzing of cars from my bedroom window.
I hear it in the emptiness of my neighborhood park with swings swaying low.

   I would not wish it upon anyone to live in the blissful seclusion.
I am sorry to burst your bubble, to break your illusion.
The world is dying as society is hiding that you could make an impact.
Do not be blinded by its technological act.

   Is it just me who wants to feel?
It cannot be just me who wants this world to heal.
I crave to truly experience my surroundings,
while others just want to move on and I find it confounding.

   Is your eyesight impaired?
How is your anger not flared.
The world is dying right before you.
Reaching for your help, yes it’s true.
Is it that your heart’s not open to beauty that cannot be painted.
For our dear world is in the midst of being tainted.
And yet you sit with phone in hand enshrouded in the smoke of cigarettes’ long draws.
Try to look beyond those four walls.

You can take action against the polluting of our earth.
Because it is not mine or yours.
It's the birds in the trees earth, it is the grass moved by the breezes earth. It is not our job to poison.
So I understand your avoidance,
I do.
But if I can change so can you.

I want to be fueled by feelings.
By my fear of what is to come.

For I fear a static presence an unchanged future. Society tells me to forget it. That it is not my problem to deal with.
Oh how it is wrong,
this is my problem and it's your problem and it's his and it's hers.
And it's all of the above.
It is all of our problems But it is not just that.
It is also our privileges.
Our privilege to walk amongst nature- to have the power to impact such a glorious creation.
To be it's very salvation.

Society can tell you many things, but it is your choice to open your eyes this.
To all of this.

I wrote this a few years back at a bioneers conference and it was te first poem I wrote that wasnt about being sad.
Isabella Aug 16

He collapses onto me
After we make love
My legs loosely wrapped around his waist
My arms pressed on his back
He feels so small
So precious so vulnerable
Like I could fold him up so tightly
This person doesn’t feel like the same person
Who grabs the flashlights and makes sure there are no ghosts
That the noise was just the house
Or an animal outside
That goes first down dark streets
But holds me close so that I don’t get hurt
But sometimes I do see this person
When he falls down rabbit holes
All day of news articles and videos
He will lay in bed
So still
It is like I can feel the heavy weight on his chest
That is slowly squeezing out tears
That slide down his face
I catch them on my fingers
There is a part of his life
I will never fully understand
How it feels to be a first generation immigrant
In a country that makes you feel unwelcome
I feel tense with his fear
That he chose the wrong country
That he might have to leave
And go back to a country that is on the verge of collapse
When I am laying in bed with him
I can’t explain the feeling
Of wanting to protect and love someone
Will all that you have
To make them the happiest you possibly can
To make yourself a source of home
For the person you love more than anyone else in the world

wraiths Aug 11

gentle hands interlaced
stony arms and skin like silk
soft brown eyes and a warm core
a safe embrace

cool hands pressed firmly
against bare hot skin
bubbly laughter and hazy vision

a blur of lace, skin, and bling
as the heat's buried within
teeth grazed flushed cheeks
and there's a pleased sigh of relief

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