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Emma Hill Mar 2017
Genderless with scraped knees and
A lipstick crush on one who bore the same name as me
Uncut brown hair untouched by bleach and
Stealing kisses from my best friend while my parents lied asleep
Lying in the grass with a picture book on faeries
Listening to the wind whistle through our dying trees
Jumping on the bed with my ***** and my bubby
Giggling hand over mouth when my mother called him "hubby"
Daisy chains and he loves me nots
Unbrushed teeth beginning to rot
***** shoes and ***** shoelaces
Visiting imagined places
Pink striped socks and a skirt to mismatch
Waiting for robins eggs to fall or to hatch

O, to be a child and to live within a dream
To lie awake at ten past eight, imagination like a stream
Undone Apr 2018
This pounding in my chest
It hurts my love
It hurts so much

Because my mind well it's decaying
And what used to help has stopped
Everything has stopped

So I need you
I need you to do me a favor

Take my heart
And unravel the veins
Like you're untying your shoelaces
Then kiss me tenderly
Let me close my eyes
And weave flowers in my hair
(daisies if you can)
And tip the mortician so she does a good job on me

Then when my body turns cold
And my lips are sealed with glue
Just know in my final moments
I was thinking of you

So wipe away your tears and get rid of that frown
Cause baby I'll be happiest when I'm in the ground
It hurts
Kateasz Dec 2018
I am the girl who watches 90s shows with her mom
And always has her homework done on time
Who smiles at people she doesn't know
Who always says "thank you"
And has never been kissed

I am the girl who wears black lace underwear
And drinks when her parents aren't home
Who believes virginity is a construct
Who wants to legalize ****
And listens to punk rock

I am the girl who loves to listen to off-broadway musicals
And can't look boys in the eyes without blushing
Who doesn't know quite how to dance
Who trips over her shoelaces
And laughs too loudly

I am the girl who has mastered the art of crying quietly
And pretends things are much better than they are
Who can't quite find motivation to get up
Who breaks the seal of skin on her hip
And tells no one

I am the girl who is all and none of these people
And doesn't know which one is true or real
Who will become whoever you want
Who only wants to be wanted
And only needs to be loved
everly Aug 2018
and we went in your moms Honda
and i called you baby the whole way and
you loved it and
we spoke some deep ish for a while about the past rather than the future
we’re both afraid for what earth has in store for us
i reassured you that i have and always will love you
and then i touched a nerve
and you didn’t want to kiss me anymore

so i kinda just watched the moon past the hill
on a boulder
and looked at the city
as a couple ants started crawling up on one of my shoelaces

we both thought about how we could’ve been kissing already.
but we’re both somewhat stubborn so none of us brought it up.

so i walked down the stupid hill
as you played with your bracelet.
lost opportunity for some action tbh
Emily Rose May 2018
My fathers skin conspired with the sun to poison him
It was rumored he was so warm Apollo himself grew envious

He left us in the dead of winter, wet wood on the fireplace.

And my mom, she hasn’t been right since. She missed his warmth so much, she began to feel it around her.

Her curious gaze melted into hurried looks, a chorus of false accusations and “I know I smell smoke don’t you lie to me. It’s all burning down.”

I’ve trained my voice so soothing as water. I am the only firefighter accustomed to smothering illusions.

Even on the good days, the ones she’s entirely there, dread makes a marionette of me. I secretly plan her funeral “what flower do you think smells the sweetest? Was it that Louis Armstrong song you said felt like coming home?” “Do you really like it when I sing to you?”

I just want to get it right because she will be attending it, in body not mind or self.

A going away party for the woman she used to be- the one that raised us, who never forgot a face or a Sunday service.

They say it spreads like… wildfire
Ain’t that something?
It’ll make a faulty narrator of her senses overnight.

What’s left is vacancy
A whisper of a woman
But a lingering presence
A sour aftertaste of my entire childhood

Don’t take it personally
When her body holds her hostage and she becomes a flight risk
a danger to herself around pen caps and shoelaces.

Don’t take it personally when her maternal instinct loses the arm wrestle with the disease and open doors and arms turn to barricades.

Don’t take it personally, it’s frightening to live in a world of your own.

Mom, had you suggested even once that an arsonist is what you need, that if our world matched yours you’d feel even a moment of peace .. id set hell fires up the coastline to kingdom come.

I still carry matches on me just in case.
girl gonzo Feb 9
can you hold it in your palm? I can't stop talking about hands.
I don't remember the last time any other body part was that important but the one that slept next to you out of necessity instead of loneliness.
There's a problem, like a rock skipping into my neighbor's pool but it's not my neighborhood and none of the houses remind me of home. A solitary moment shrinking in shrubs when you know that the cars are passing by and you have no idea what direction anyone's going. Where's the destination and will they get there like you?
Muddy lawns and soaking sidewalks is everywhere you've ever been but you don't talk much about that anymore. Some kind of selective mutism that gripped you when you were too young to make decisions, just a bad joke played well on yourself. Drifting from window to window to see if my fingerprints stay there, if the future will break down the door and trip me with shoelaces that were worn by me or my best friend or by nobody and I think I'll understand then the most significant rule, you can't be in two places at once.
Before my brother grew up and forgot the colors of the sky,
He shared with me a secret.
That to become invisible, one only needs to climb,
For most adults have forgotten the shape of the world
Beyond their shoelaces.

Barren, winter-worn branches stretch gray
Against the timid rays of the springtime sun,
Coaxing forth tiny, vibrant leaves that
Will age to weave themselves into the walls of
The sanctuary I inherited from my brother.

Wedged between the highest limbs,
I disappeared.
Peering between the wrestling leaves
Of my favorite maple tree,
I marveled at all I could not see,
Reaching out to trace the sharp indigo mountains
From which mystic creatures rose
To claim the expanse of my imagination.
Here, I lost myself
In realms of endless fantasy.

Now, the seasons cycle past, each spring
Rebuilding the leaf-bricked castle
Of my childhood, but
The creatures I once knew have faded from existence,
For I, too, am forgetting the colors of the sky.
Stevie Ray May 12
little pockets of dread.
Grey and cold.

I'm a withering leaf,
in the painful process of letting go.

My skin tears.
Flakes of despair falling in winter.

My heart cracks,
bark besides the road.

Came from far turned into a long way home.

Footprints through the mud,
woven shoelaces from dried grass.

An abandoned heart.
Soul shelters in an empty chamber.

Tears in a storm.
Grief hiding amongst drops.

In the presence of lastig absence,
thoughts staring at an empty canvas.

Little pockets.
Never sleep without your shoes on your feet,

I forced my mouth to quiet my cries,
for fear of another whip from the belt,
she frowned as if to me tell me, "not another sound."

Morning finally shined in,
but momma better not get woke up before ten,
so I waited until the night before I started in again,
"mommy, he was my dad that died too,"
avoiding eye contact, "no you belong to that ***** that gave birth to you, "

Trying one more time pleading the way 5-year
old's do, "but you're my mommy, I love you and
I miss daddy too,"

Suddenly my body slammed to the floor, realizing my shoes were the color of blue,
fear, pain, the taste of blood not knowing to stay still or try to move,
could never guess which
to do, no matter her

Grieving for my daddy,
begging for her love... she couldn't because I wasn't her  blood,
my sister called her boyfriend, "daddy," though,
ironically she had my dad's last name but not me strangely so.

That cold Chicago night my shoelaces were tied extra tight,
in fear, she'd put me in the dumpster like so many times she dared.

Always sleep with your
shoes on your feet,
never get comfortable...
like innocent prey you'll
be eat.
Ven Jencie Clifton Arnold
Author Ven J Arnold page on Fb Series3, Always Sleep With Your Shoes On"
Ignite Mar 26
Some of my friends and family do not understand anxiety
“It can’t be that bad”
“You don’t have anything to be afraid of”
“Just calm down”

“It can be that bad” I tell them
Anxiety strings barbed wire across doorways and coats people in broken glass
You can’t go anywhere
Anxiety is like a room in an adventure movie where water is steadily pumping onto the floor until it’s up to your chest
Except there’s no magic lever or button for anxiety
It just keeps going until you’ve drowned
Anxiety is a boulder strapped to your back
It keeps pressing and pressing
Even when you’re tired and you just want to sleep, it keeps pressing
Even when you fall, it keeps pressing
Even when you stop struggling to move, to survive, it keeps pressing

“There’s plenty to be afraid of” I say
Anxiety is a monster with giant bulging eyes and thousands of teeth and claws
And the worst part is that no one else can see it following you down the hallways at school
Stalking you in the bathrooms at concerts
Hiding under your own bed
Anxiety is like an uninvited party guest
You never know when Anxiety is going to join the party
It just shows up
And you never have enough snacks or blankets for Anxiety
It always wants more
And it doesn’t leave until 4am when you’re shaking from exhaustion
Anxiety doesn’t even say Thank you
For taking up everything you had in you
It just leaves
And you know Anxiety will be back
What’s scary about Anxiety is that it keeps you from doing something you really wanna do
Like spending the night at your friends
You really wanna go but you just don’t
Because you don’t want to have to explain why your body has begun to unravel itself, time traveling back to when anxiety kept humans alive and why apparently your body thinks your friend’s sweet little French bulldog is the equivalent of a modern day saber tooth tiger  
Another scary thing about anxiety is the fact it’s something your brain makes up and your body BELIEVES it of all things
“I’m dying” your brain says
And so your body believes it
Because why would a piece of your body lie to itself?
Why would you lie to yourself?

“I can’t just calm down” I say to them
The whole thing with Anxiety is not just the fact that the guy next to you could be a suicide bomber or that the girl across the isle could have a knife in her pocket or  the fact you’ve got a test to pass or that your shoelaces aren’t symmetrical
It’s that anxiety gives you anxiety
What a beautiful self-destructive cycle
And if I could calm down don’t you think I would?
Do you think I would scratch myself raw trying to force the anxiety out of my skin?
Do you think I would spend my friend’s birthday party having a panic attack in the bathroom?
God why is it always bathrooms?
Do you think I would spend my every waking hour anxiously figuring out how I can avoid all the things that give me anxiety?
The thing about anxiety is that nothing can “get rid of it”
There is no cure
A million billion poems and hugs and dark closets and angry songs and therapists could not get rid of anxiety
Anxiety has embedded itself into me and I don’t have enough strength to dig the scalpel into my own skin and carve it out
I don’t think anyone has that kind of strength

“Anxiety is a part of me” I tell them
And the thing I ask now even gives me anxiety
Isn’t that ironic?
But I still ask it
I always ask it
“Will you still accept me?
Hi guys! I have no clue what I’m doing here, but hi!
KM Hanslik Jun 6
I'm free
cities glow and blur beneath my feet;
if I was your telescope, you'd watch
until the night took away your stars.
If you were free, the trees would be still but
tethered we are to the push and the pull
water in my lungs (wash me clean)
fill me with salt, I will erode into the sand


nothing goes before anything.
Tie my wrists to my ankles (untie my shoelaces)
the waves know something
(I don't)
the planets may be waiting us out
we are tethered like birds;
no freer nor more trapped than the sand
pulling away, drifting back
and back; and pulling back toward (away from?) something
someone is standing


somewhere between thought and being;
I am a million flowers that bloom & die all at once;
the earth explodes, harvests, repeats
It is not a mistake.
It is not calculated.
"Definition. - undefined"
Darkness is not the mere absence of light,
but an entity in&of itself.
kiera Sep 2018
Join us, please
The people who love to tease
Pretend like we’re diseased
With a taste of dislike and fear that could freeze

Welcome to the place
Full of funny sayings like “I like your shoelaces!”
Where people look at us and see a disgrace
But then again, that’s all we’ve ever seen in our own faces

Over here, people like us, somehow
We’re kinda just a little weird, never been the ones to pluck our eyebrows
But some people like to see beauty in us now
From personality rather than curtseys and bows

But the things that make us most unique and funny
Are the things that make our noses go runny
We don’t cry at cute things like bunnies
But rather the things people like to think are funny

We have problems, just a little messed up in the head
Maybe play too much, live too long in bed
Too introverted, we like to wish we were dead
Because depression loves to catch the weird ones, the ones with wrists of red

So welcome to the club where we're all broken and sore
Our bones are frail but our laughter just gets more and more
Or less, if you really like to put our sadness to the test but sure
Here we like to knock down doors

Instead of facing charges
So welcome to the club, where we'll be strong regardless

— The End —