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Maple Mathers May 2016
I've now coined the diagnosis "Portable Hoarder" -  Carrying my life in bags and duffles, pockets and sleeves.

Accumulating more baggage than would fit in a **** terminal.

But now, I am home. Me, and my ***** laundry. And I don't fit anymore. Crammed amidst my past. Falling out the door; Spilling across my floor.

Me, myself, and Marshall.



**So, TONIGHT
I'm cleaning out my closet.
Everything I know I learned from Eminem.

Nobody wanted me till puberty reinvented my physicality. From peasant to princess - my life spun 180. Grade school, a prison; high school; a kingdom. And that's fun. But.

What's the lesson here?

I'm nothing to this world but my looks.
Annaleisa Oct 2011
Our duffle bags are filled with stained clothing.
    stained memories.
       The sun that burnt our pale skin so many times is now setting
with a soft sympathy.
                                             The Ending Begun,
no mistakes existed in the circle game.
  liquid flashbacks flew from our eyes and eased from our noses.
    Summer had evaporated any grudges we held.
      our dragon, Puff, blew magic in our hearts.
         in our bags
           our duffles weighed more than us and I knew why.
             they held everything we had:
early morning hot chocolates
  air we flew through
    snow ***** that hit our frozen bodies
      lips of those we kissed
        hands of those we held
          hair of those we braided
            Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh
              the mountains we Climbed
                the buckets of tears in the ends
                                                            ­              7 Groups of Shoes Thrown.
my jet plane was leaving
I knew what I was leaving behind
and what was now mine.
we weren't going home, not really.
Shaquille Reid Apr 2018
Bank robbery.

As fate contemplates,
My spirit reciprocates;
Swaying swiftly in circles,
Like ice skaters doing figure eight's.
At this rate I couldn't indicate,
what decisions to make.
Wether to bear this weight,
Or to catch a break.
I began to shake,
because my palms are sweaty
From holding this brand
new thirty eight;
Watch As I hold it steady
To the temple of this featherweight.
"See for heaven's sake,
You lucky I wouldn't send you up
with two bullets each eye";
That way you're wide awake
When your sprit trancends.
Just you wait,
It'll rise like dead fish
in Great Lake filled with your tears.
Because it grinds my gears,
When the this person's fear
Pierces my ears.
Agony screams,
as I beat the dreams
from their brain seams.
The hilt of my gun gleams,
Because of the dripping.
Satin red streaks
so there's no cripping.
Only demands shouted
to the power of ten.
Who's alongside me to follow?
My brethren or better kin.
"NOW PUT THE MONEY IN THE BAG!!"
QUICK!!
HURRY UP!!
I WONT REPEAT MYSELF ONCE AGAIN!!"
The terror in her face gave me a slight grin.
I grabbed her shirt
Brought her in closer.
I pushed up the barrel,
right under her chin.
Tears streamed down her face,
Her makeup smeared.
Her life abduction,
should be the only thing she feared.
Though my lackey stands clear,
about 10 feet away.
Then he aimed down his sights at me,
as if he was gonna spray.
My thoughts,
now in a disarray;
He shouts,
"LET HER STAY!!
THERES NO TIME TO PLAY!!"
Simultaneously,
hearing sirens coming this way.
The screeching tires echoed
About a block away.
But we parked about a block
to be safe.
So out the back,
through the alleys,
We ran with 6 duffles filled to the brim.
Collectively,
3 guys,
So 2 bags belonged to him.
50 meters away from the van,
We're running as fast as we can.
The sirens off in the distance ceased,
Everything is going according to plan.
We arrive,
Slide the van door open,
Then my lackeys nose Is broken.
As he falls to the floor a man,
Gets out the van.
Someone gets shot in the face.
Blood and brain batter
Exploded all over the place.
Queasiness strikes my intestine,
And my heart,
fear infested.
My inner thoughts race,
As I think about the van being contested.
Fear dissipates,
Rage congregates,
Then I let off a few rounds from the .38.
The man drops,
Then tires screech.
It seems the police have reached.
The intercom bellows,
"FREEZE! HANDS IN THE AIR!"
I looked down an noticed three bags gone.
Life is so unfair.
Storytelling
Javier Garza Oct 2019
To the shed
Lock away faded scars
Sealed away with a weak smile

To the shed
Dark  and humid just like back then
Reminisce in the silent shadows

To the shed
Albums to heavy to lift
Yet to fragile to throw

To the shed
Agonize and weep
Smile and laugh

To the shed
What lunacy lies there?
A tiny yet amazing sanctity

Inside beaten boxes and dust covered duffles
Lie cherished memories and never forgotten friends
In the shed
Are treasures most will never understand

— The End —