Hanna Jones Nov 2017

It’s like I’m falling, descending.

But, really, I’m just repeating the same thing over and over again.

Saint Audrey Oct 2017

Dull raindrops leaving trails down the glass
As they land in my mug brimming with
Feelings of missed opportunity and swatches of colors
That have all bled into something of a cloudy grey

Clouds that hold demons at bay behind sheets of rain
Fires that burn in the cold quiet mornings
Pronounced and protruding slowly it comes to me

Sinister thought crimes that etch themselves woven lines
Plots long forgotten and discarded memories
Pronounced as it seems, still slowly It inclines

And out from the shadows painted by steady hands
Carved out of mistakes, they know from the memory
Creatures are calling me, out from the darkness
Festering innocence offers me a reply

Each one was made from the stroke of a pen
And what sort of unknowns have I begun to deify

They were made for me

They call my name, still taunting me

All I can do to stay here a while more
Ending my efforts in each ignored symphony
Along the back wall and in every corner
As soon as my back is turned, they all start whispering

I try and hide away

Still, I hide away

The forest is shrouded by miles of brickwork
Fast talking incongruity
Of iconography, smoke stacks birthing machinery

That's how it starts

And here I hide away

Insert haunting acoustic guitar solo here

faint sounding bird calls
drifted on the eve's lazy breeze
of a tone low set
listening harder one heard
a leather-head's distinct pitch

Luis Liriano Sep 2017

today there's no tomorrow
tonight there's no morning
and right now there's nothing but present moment

as I fall like the first leaf of this season
I wait to crash all so hrashly into the ground so I can know how lovely it was when I was falling
so I can know that I missed the thing that I wish would end
so I can know if I have regrets or if I lived to the fullest of my expectations
if I have any

Knit Personality Jul 2017

There was a theatrical fellow
Who played most bizarrely the cello:
   His sound supersonic,
   His air histrionic,
He jiggled vibratos like jello.

#

Knit Personality Sep 2016

This pretty little triolet
  In orange, red, and grey:
It hath a dainty style, it,
This pretty little triolet
With just a touch of violet
   Which drippeth down all day,
This pretty little triolet
   In orange, red, and grey.

O.O

Dot Jan 2017

Polished and serene;
your vocal tones,
they soothe my stereocilia.

Crimsyy Jan 2017

Acetone

You're my hopeful undertone
and that is where
all this love is
vulnerable like acetone,
because if one day
this all ends,
where will hope go?
I must place my hope
in the stars,
because even if all else crumbles,
they will still be there,
shining, burning,
reminding me dead
things in your heart
get lighter the more it gets dark,
reminding me that a star lit sky
is capable of fixing
a person's broken parts.

JR Rhine Dec 2016

you make me want to listen to Alkaline Trio
ironically,
for their morosity
is no longer my own. and maybe

they'd be happy for me. happily
singing their songs
with a different
lung.

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