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 Mar 2013 brea
Klaus
Ferment
 Mar 2013 brea
Klaus
Your eyes,

they catalyze-

an anaerobic exercise

of my loosely stitched heart
& sepia stained scruple

If you squint once more
i might rationalize

a brief grasp,
graze,
and galvanize.
just sayin' :-*
 Mar 2013 brea
Lizabeth
Dreamt
 Mar 2013 brea
Lizabeth
I wish I could tell you,
how everyone liked
the last little story,
I dreamt about us.

But you see, if I do,
then I'd have to wake
you up.
 Mar 2013 brea
Brock Kawana
When I was born I asked the doctor, how he thought he did?
He recalled,
"Exquisite, it was a perfect delivery."
I rebutted,
"Then why am I still attached to the umbilical chord?"
He snipped me away from the tangling sheathe preventing me from exploration.
I leapt off the crinkling hospital bed paper and onto the goose-bump extracting tile floor.
Playfully bobbing my head as I walked into the world whilst giving the blonde doe-eyed nurse a crumpled note arranging what time I would pick her up for
dinner that night.
--Nurses enjoy being taken care of too.

When I was in preschool my teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up.
I told her, "I want to feel the love of a woman who makes me happy everyday and loves me for being me."
She under cut my desired fate, "That's not a something you can work for."
I whispered in her ear, "I know you have never felt love from another person."
She began to cry.
I told her, "That tears are just water for her soul to grow."
She got married later that spring after the rain had stopped,
--Her soul grew enough to show.

When I was seven years old a neighborhood bully stole my bicycle.
I cried for four minutes.
I was angry for about an hour.
Instead of telling him that my dad could beat up his dad
I began to wear my helmet everywhere I went.
I shouted to the other boys in my class,
"I had an invisible superb-deathly speedy-extraordinary-intergalactic- bike."
Two weeks later that same bully gave me my bike back.
As he relentlessly rubbed his knuckles into the top part of my scalp I thought nothing, but that this is the reason why my Grandpa went bald.
Then he muttered through his wheezing breaths of anger,
"My invisible bicycle was much faster than anything your ***** daddy could have bought you."
--Dad's, they love hypothetical fighting.

When I was eleven years old two airplanes hit two buildings in New York City.
I did not understand.
I asked my teacher, "Why would God make evil people?"
Through her tears she explained to me, "Some people are just born evil."
I shouted under my breath, "People are not born evil...
implementing ideas in the sponge of a youth's mind is what is morally corrupt and evil!"

--Corruption is the first cause of terrorism.

When I was fifteen years old I had my first real serious girlfriend.
I did not understand, again.
I exasperated to my father over drinking our first father-son beer,
"How do I know when I love a woman?"
He nostalgically took a drag of his menthol cigarette and as the smoke made it's way through his nose like fog in a canyon he said to me,
"Whenever you look into her eyes and know that there is nothing you wouldn't do for her, that is love."
Before he could reach down and crack another pilsner I told him,
"Dad I look a little lower than her eyes and that is where... everything I would do to her."
--Hormones are a *****.

When I was twenty-one years old my mom told me I couldn't come back home after I graduated college.
I begged her to give me time. I will make it, I promise.
I shouted in the driveway with all my belongings she had neatly placed for me to pack into my car, "How do I know when I am ready to be on my own?"
She didn't have to say anything for there was a brown envelope on top of my neatly folded clothes; that mysterious folding method all mom's know but I
could never seem to figure out,
"Son, you won't know. You won't know until you are poor, hungry, cold and exhausted everyday from trying to make something of your life. The character
you will build will help you later in life when you have a family of your own. I promise. I am not a tyrant, I care too much to see you widdle away here with me
in obscurity and waste all the dreams I know you have. I love you my baby."

--Mom's, even though they don't cut the umbilical chord...they cut the umbilical chord.
 Mar 2013 brea
Lizabeth
I want to fall into the room with you,
pulling at our jeans and tee shirts
until we’re in nothing but our
white cotton underwear.

I want to forget about light switches,
cell phones, and my breathing.


I want you to have trouble with my bra,
fingers clumsy with the clasp.
You’ll mutter Jesus Christ,
and I’ll smile against your lips.

I want you to tangle your hands, in my curls
and I’ll spread my palms across your back,
mapping from your shoulders to your ***.

I want to run my hands down your
chest and see if your stomach tenses
when my fingers meet your boxer band.

I want to know the noises you’d make,
and see your face, when we fall together
into your twin bed, in nothing.
 Mar 2013 brea
Sandra Wissinger
The very second he leaves
A dark void begins to form
I finger the musical keys
With melancholic music I mourn

Because when he was here I could breathe
I could smile and talk and sing
But now that he took the heart on my sleeve
All that is left is remembering

I know in my depth my knight will return
To the stone cold castle in the sky
But I still have gargoyles and urns
And things that could easily die

I have created a collection
Of monstrous items to hold
I cannot seem to win the battle
Between me and my wretched soul

My hair has grown long since I saw him last
Longer than the crimson lace of my dress
Trying to leave a shadow I can’t even cast
Leaving me hungry for blood and flesh

The portcullis of my terrain
Is wrapped in red and dead roses
With each gust they whisper his name
As each lifeless petal poses

The vine of thoughts strangles my weak neck
I promised the world I’d be strong
I want him as well to be fit on his trek
If not, have we all been living wrong?

Death is tempting when you have a moat
Surrounding your very home
Rope or dagger to the throat?
I prefer to be left alone!

The Hourglass is my worst enemy
He haunts me in my dreams
When slumber lets me in for a peak I see
My heart with all its fragile seams

I tell myself there’s a Queen inside
Where is she now?
She’s let the people starve and suffer
She’s let the people down

The people are inside her head
The people of the future’s past
A drink and smoke can only let
The fear come just as it passed

Nothing will aid the aching
The Queen has gone mad
She throws what ends up breaking
But it is making no one sad
 Mar 2013 brea
JM
Diabetes is a cunt
 Mar 2013 brea
JM
You are going to die
before me.

I already know this.

You are going to get fat
and go completely blind
and probably,
eventually, they will
cut some parts off.

You are going to fall apart
in front of me.

I know this.

I still choose to stay.
I will be there
through all the appointments,
the stickings and pokings and cuttings and bleedings.

I have only wiped
a few *****
in my life.
Mine,
my son's,
a few babies
of friends.

I already plan on wiping yours
when you cannot.

I will draw
little sugar skulls
on your prosthetic feet.

I will make sure you always have enough medicine and it is always refrigerated.
I will help you
in and out
of the bathtub.
I will massage your legs
and arms
and back
and head
and neck,

every day.

I will make our boys breakfast
and walk the dogs
and make sure everything
goes back in the
same exact spot
and keep a file with all the pertinent medical information
so I can fill out all the paperwork.

I will take you to
all those folk rock shows you love so much
and describe the singers to you.

We will still garden together.
I can see you in a chair,
barking out questions
about our harvest and me,
going back and forth,
bringing you the biggest squash
to hold.

You see, I have given up thinking
I am ever going to
give myself to anyone else.

It is you and you alone.

So, when you start to fall apart,
and you will fall apart,
don't worry baby.
I am going to be there to wipe your ***.
Originally posted May 28, 2012
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