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  Dec 2017 Ash Rose
this is how it happens
it's the last day the temperature will be
above thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit
until February
you're not looking at the date
it's just the end of November
the middle of the night in the middle of a road
at the end of November
the hum of this small town hurts your ears
you're stuck in a dream where everything you see
turns into a weapon
this is how it happens
you knocked back sharp, amber liquid
to make this place feel a little more okay
and it only worked halfway
no matter how soft the edges are
you bruise your hips when you
run into them in the dark
you're ******* on your fourth cigarette when
a police officer pulls over and asks
how you're doing today
in the too-bright white of the headlights
the sick taste of Red Stag sticks to
the roof of your mouth
the mouth that you're moving into a smile
the mouth exhaling plumes of smoke at the ground
you're okay
"i'm okay."
you don't tell him what you're really doing
you're really taking all of your
thoughts about stopping your pulse for a walk
you don't tell him you've been
chasing ambulances all night long
please, officer don't leave me alone, you don't say
he tells you to have a good night and drives away
and this is how it happens
the moon smiles at you with every single one
of its tiny, sharp teeth
nobody but your cat finds you in that bathtub
nobody but your cat watches you rise from red water
watches it drip drip drip
from every chasm carved in your left arm
nobody but your cat saw the soft animal of your soul
shiver from the cold that day
it's the first day the temperature
dropped below
thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit inside your chest
based on true events
  Oct 2017 Ash Rose
Lior Gavra
It haunts us, we are scared of it.
But we spend a lot of time thinking about it.
We walk around wanting it.
It drives us, makes us passionate.
Ditch everything we know just to chase it.
Wake up the next morning hoping to revisit.

It is different for each person, and we try to make the most of it.
Next year we make a bunch of promises, and swear to it.
No more this, no more that, but more of it.
Finally be the person we want to be, get really fit.
Time passes by, we forget it.
Maybe next year we will regret it.

Once you look around, you will remember it.
Slow things down, take a glance, it will hit.
Every second counts, do not ever quit.
You only get it once, before you split.

It is called life, cherish it.
"It's impossible to die in your dreams. If you die in your dreams you die in real life. That's what I believe".

Good for you, I'm murdered every night.
A hunting knife with jagged teeth.
I feel the blood drain from my throat.
I've fallen down so many feet.
And felt my bones collapse under gravity.

My nights are hopeless death, and
I'm attacked by my skeleton every day.
What a pointless life, I mean
Seriously, just give me another cigarette.
an insomniac's dream journal
This room's littered with *** toys and bloodstains.
Empty beer cans and ***** laundry that's nearly half animal hair, half ****** fluids.
He's there, she's there - they all showed up for a night of blackouts and left before the sun rose.


There's a wilting flower breathing in soot amongst forgotten memories. The floral antithesis of a forget-me-not.
The kind we give to ourselves with filthy syringes and wash in destitute bliss.
Watered with gasoline and a silicone manhood.

There's spilt milk and crying consumers.
**** drunk horror buffs establishing antfarms in molten lead.
But when I wake up, the only part I can rememeber is the scurrying legs
   encased in an ever cooling tomb.

I don't remember falling asleep though...
an insomniac's dream journal
  Jul 2017 Ash Rose
Sydney Carter
you said you loved me,
a single lilac among others.
prettier, you said.
sweeter, softer.
you loved my delicacy,
sense of solitude,
my endearing growth.
sprouts whither,
and I find
myself asking
why must you
always turn back
to smell
the roses.
I guess that's cool
I'm so hurt & confused
Because the world is cold
But apparently that's my fault
I'm so alone - so alone - so alone

While cooking the air, ever so gently
The sun lifts me up, casting out shadows
Eclipsing a foul choir of dead birds

I'm so alone - so alone - so alone
But apparently that's my fault
Because the world is cold
I'm so hurt & confused
I guess that's cool
Trash overflowing
Your hair is a mess
An analogy kept from the best of us
The rest of us just have to follow along
I begin to suspect that I'm wrong
Thought process blaring a terrible song
What a wonderful excuse to drink

It's the kind of experience I wanna take
For my own indelible sake
It won't be forgotten
Like ink on the page
You seem more than too sure
That we won't be erased
But the trappings I've made are my fate

And to the wayside I go
Also, I'm seething with jealously
Wait, the proper term's envy
It's not fear of loss
Just a personal lacking
A situation I want for myself
But I can't seem to keep up
(plus, this traffic won't let up)
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