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the culture club mix-tape section from nylon magazine completes me. sometimes I don’t feel like capitalizing the first letter to the first word of a new sentence. feelings can be so useless sometimes. I use the word sometimes too much. I think I am in love with Keaton Henson. I think I have a crush on one of my co-workers. I’d rather have a crush than be in love with you, it’ll last a while longer that way. I like coffee mugs, they are so comfortable to drink out of, they make me feel safe. I like it better when you’re warm, I want to give you warm feelings. I remember this one time I wrote the saddest poem I've ever written during one of the saddest points in my life, I sat there with legs crossed on the cold ground of a dim hallway on the third floor of the humanities building at school. It was on a yellow blue-lined sheet of paper, I folded it in three, I left it there anonymously and fled. I’ll never know who found that piece of me, perhaps no one ever did. every day is another year. I’m sorry, I always end up writing too much. I’m sorry, for being quite a crap person sometimes, truly I am. There are many things I’ll live to be sorry about, but I've no fault for the words inside of my head. All tomorrow’s parties are dead. Listen to The Babies all night with me instead.

Oh darling, save a place for me in your heart.
 Jan 2014 wandabitch
Guss
Space is hardly the final frontier.
But, for now,
don’t you think we seem ambitious?
Shooting arrows at the clouds
could come back
to shoot you in the head.
Can’t you see that colonies on mars
would become a new home for problems.  
Seems desperate.
What do I know though,
I'm Twenty-Five and I haven't even graduated college.
But fears of failure make us see future
where our planets long since dead.
From that arrow to the head.
Salvation relies on a new years revolution
or something humbling like that.
But wait,
I shouldn’t write that here.
Big Bro is always watching.
I might find a man in black,
tap-tapping at my chamber door.
Not Lenore.
Thats when you'll hear me saying,
"Does anyone have a cigarette?"
I like the color of your sweater and the stripes on your sleeves and I especially like how the ends fray and the gray looks more like milk than it does a rainy day sky or a weatherbeaten road.

2. The reason I stepped back was not because you smelled funny, or that I was shocked to find you there, but because the air condition was hitting me right on the shoulders and I left my red sweater at home.

3. Okay, so maybe I was a bit shocked at finding you there; it’s just that you’re the first one who’s ever bothered lingering at the poetry section besides me, and I’m not good with surprises; in fact, I hate surprises.

4. But you’re a good kind of surprise.

5. I like your glasses. I used to have a pair just like them before someone removed them and told me that I should learn to see differently. Things have been kind of unclear since then, but I’m learning how to hold onto the side rails.

6. I hope you’ll let me remove yours, too.

7. Your hair looks like a bird’s nest. I wonder if you’re hiding life or pieces of green bottle in there. That’s a lovely shade of brown, by the way. I’ve never seen chocolate curls before.

8. Do you think that if a pine wants to, it will grow until its branches poke holes in the sky for stars and pinecones to fall out so we can catch them in our palms and compare who got the most scratches and who caught the most stardust?

9. The book you picked up happens to be my favorite. If you turn to page 118 you’ll find a poem about churning seas, angry thunderclouds, and a drifting boat that lost its sail.

10. I think I finally found my sail.
Audio here. https://soundcloud.com/sofiyichka/10-things-i-shouldve-said-to-the-boy-at-the-bookstore
by the gleam of idols,
governed,
minds’ defied;
no sanctuary
untouched
by their guise

disguising love as god;
a masquerading truth,
entailed with
the cycle
of the moon.

around and around
the shepherds lead
lost souls,
hung on hooks
by fishers of men
 Dec 2013 wandabitch
JK Cabresos
CHRISTMAS* is not only *FOR GIVING
but it is also about FORGIVING.
All Rights Reserved © 2013
It's high time
I drown my pride
open up these
ocean eyes
let the rays
shine inside

my slit throat
no longer groans
my own hands
have forged this
hope
from broken bones
to newfound
growth
Daniel Magner 2013
 Dec 2013 wandabitch
Brycical
Middle
 Dec 2013 wandabitch
Brycical
There's a dark wolf
behind my heart--
licking chops
ready to feast on the future
and guzzle the night nectar of what will be.
His smokey wings agape,
drawn to fly in to the moon's uvula.
The ash black fur smells of burnt strawberries.

A pale bobcat spectre leans
behind my mind...
smells like a gin bath...
       looks over its shoulder
longingly gazing into the murk-muck,
     that is.... the past.
Lavender eyes, and patterns of dirt
     on its sopping cold fur.

And here I am,
between the two...
a silent meditative fox
under the cherry blossom,
the breezy moment twirls the desert red fur,
nature's hum drums and strums the heart
as it grows into a lotus reaching for the  burning sun.
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