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serpentinium Jun 2018
distant ships sailing through the
pink crests of brain matter  
brimming with cargo; the unit
of knowledge burrowed in flesh
unable to feel pain, passing the
sensation on skulled flags—beware,
remember, know that these things
can haunt you.

(know that these things may one
day heal you)

this is who you are now: yellow,
sunflowers wreathed in knotted strands
of wheat-colored hair, pill bottles
half-full, hands like rotting fly traps
curled in supplication on a
Thursday morning when the pain is
too much to bear alone.

this is who you will always be: a series
of binary sparks, a long silvery tunnel,
streetcars laden with passengers
weaned on anger & fear & love--
a construction site.

you are a work in progress.
the definition of a neuron from a neuroscientist
Susanna Aug 2018
I lay here in bed,
The thoughts in my head:
Grains of sand caught in a dance by the desert wind.
But as consciousness slowly slips out of reach,
They settle down somewhere else
Far away from where they started
In this tiny world of my mind.
I had to get out of bed to write this poem, but I didn't want this grain of sand to blow away and get lost forever. Sometimes I get lucky, and they come to me like that. I suppose many things come and go when you least expect them to.
anna Apr 14
my future partner,

Hi, I’m anna. I guess we’re co-writing this chapter of our lives together. I’m sure it’ll be epic. It takes a while for me to viscerally latch onto another being, so congrats to you for stealing my heart
because if I’m with you, that probably means I really love you.

I like sushi a lot, empty bookstores, and tea sipping sessions with my cat, xiaoxiao, who you will probably hear me talk about twenty-four seven. I hope you’re a cat person.

Within the realm of the arts, I like to write poetry and play piano. But my secret hobby is photography. It’s the best way to know someone without really knowing them. And if you hurt me, I’ll probably create an entire musical composition or a playlist of poetry about it. But I’ll forgive you instantly.

I might make mistakes, too. For instance, I’m horrible with directions, remembering events, deadlines, or anything unrelated to pedantic learning. My erratic and changeable moods can be quite the predicament as well, but I promise to be as tolerable as I can be through my storms.
I’m a biomedical science major with a minor in neuroscience. Assimilating an array of medical innovations, education, and terminology is, personally, my zenith of academic interest. I have a love and longing to help others. But sometimes, moving towards this ultimate vocation is strenuous and I do hope you understand how much medicine means to me. This means late night MCAT study sessions, mountains of neuroscience books, stacks of terminology notecards, homework, and paramounts of stress.

But I want to work on that. I promise that whatever I love, I love to a seemingly boundless depth- “from the tip of my apex and beyond,” if you’re into medical puns. I promise I’ll take you out to dinner, plan cute dates, and spend as much quality time with you as I can. I promise, we’ll travel to so many places, eat all the food we can in all the countries we visit, dive in every ocean we can find, and fly over every country we can point to on a map.

Most importantly, I promise to give you reasons to continue the chapters in your book. Because I struggle with that too.
Whether it be in a month, a year, a decade, or a lifetime...

I promise to love you, see you soon
Graff1980 Jan 27
Daylight shades
paint the frames
and Instagram pages
with beautiful smiles
and short blond locks
that look out at
the world with
a certain
curiousness.
Snapshot moments
of social projections
pushed out onto
the internet
so strangers
can view
those small lies,
because
these pictures
do not know
or show
a quarter of
the truth.

Behind the
staged displays
of fun and cosplay
there are
dark shadows
with deep corners
where broken hearts
bleed clutching
their bruised wrists
and split lips.
Where blood drips
on the cracked tip
of the kitchen
counter top.

There are
repeated rapes,
cruelty and denial,
honesty rejected,
and despairing.
There is
a sense of
resignation
to not let this
invasion
define her life.

There is abandonment
from those who should have
safe guarded
her pulsar heart,
there is
injustice,
and while
the darkness
has not swallowed
her soul whole
yet,
she still finds time
to give light  
to a friend
who was trying to lend
a compassionate ear
to her.

These photos
do not dare
to chart the depths
seldom shared,
or explore more
then mere outward
pleasantries.

There is so much
left to see, hear,
and hold dear,
deep conversation,
neuroscience
and psychology
discussion
that are enlightening,

so much more
then mere flesh,
or hastened breathed
burnt by
desirous men
and their
unwanted intrusions.

There is dark art
and a heart yearning
for the burning
of an honest
and caring love,
one that runs
from safe fields
searching desperately
for the person they need
to protect
because to do otherwise
would destroy their life.

These photographs
are little lies
that we put out in the world,
smiles that hide
possible fast
or very slow
suicides,
especially if
there is
no one
ever around
to ask
“Are you ok?”
and if not
then to ask
“why?”

— The End —