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 Jan 2016 yas
Ysabel
They say once you fell in love,
he will be your world,
but they were wrong
because when I fell with you,
you have become my universe.
 Apr 2015 yas
pcm
Untitled
 Apr 2015 yas
pcm
today was the first day I
didn’t feel anything for you.
last week when I said your
name it didn’t burn my
throat and my eyes didn’t
water.
I saw a photograph
of the two of us and it didn't
break my heart - piece by
piece I’m getting over you,
and maybe i'll be okay.
 Apr 2015 yas
Ernest Hemingway
If my Valentine you won't be,
I'll hang myself on your Christmas tree.
 Apr 2015 yas
Charles Bukowski
I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.
 Apr 2015 yas
E. E. Cummings
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new
 Apr 2015 yas
claire
i. Allow yourself to be clichéd. Forgive yourself the comparison to phenomena like stars, tsunamis, volcanoes, and the end of the world.  There is no shame in depicting the galaxies you see in your irises or the seas crashing in your lungs. Don’t for a minute diminish your words because you’re afraid of seeming larger, lovelier, or grander than you really are. Keep writing huge. Keep writing splendorous.

ii. Destroy the anxiety gap between you and your work. Sit down and write whatever’s filling you in that moment. When stupidity comes, embrace it. When unoriginality comes, offers it your deepest welcome. When panic comes, give it a wink and keep dragging your pen across the page. There is no wrong, no right. There is only Something. Do not label the Something in such stark, dull terms as good or bad. If you must label it, label it burning, label it victorious, scarlet, howling, fresh, moving, disastrous, gleaming, but never reduce it to success or non-success. Who are you to determine these things? How can you take what streams out of you and cram it into a superficially constructed box? Would you degrade any other kind of natural release? Would you relegate blood flow or shouting or tears to a simple one-word title? This is your time to glow in full vulnerability, to fall head over heels for every blundering, beautiful thought within you, so build a bridge between you and the paper that will be strong enough to bear your weight. Then cross it.

iii. Know who you are writing for. It should be yourself, not the one who holds your heart or the fire-faced figure in the park at dusk or people who make your soul twist. Write for brave, bruised you; wondering, powerful you. Always you.

iv. Rise above the need to match your creation to a preordained image in your mind. The two will never be the same and this is fine. Accept whatever you produce with tender detachment, then move forward. Remember that every literary icon has felt the same pounding dissatisfaction, and walked about tugging at their hair, frustrated and abashed. Remember they are no closer to divinity than you. Ultimately, we are all just shells through which a greater ocean sings, so let yours wail its melody as it likes.

v. Write without the tight egoic fist; write without a blueprint; write without fear. Write like it is your first day on earth and you are stunned with awe. Write like the caterpillar bursting from its cocoon, transformed, breathless. Write like that.
 Apr 2015 yas
L
Glass
 Apr 2015 yas
L
Shut up and kiss me quick
Run your lips over my pulse
Drag your nails across my hips
Grip the hem of my shirt and pull  
You won't hurt me
I am not antique glass
I will not break
Go ahead
Try
whoops

**
Leigh
 Apr 2015 yas
NV
cloud suicide.
 Apr 2015 yas
NV
i'm telling you.
the clouds were meant for the ground.
but they hung themselves.
 Apr 2015 yas
Liz Delgado
A little part of me breaks when I catch you leaving through your eyes to some place you'll never tell me about,
leaving your body living dead
and me to wonder what to do because I want so desperately to be your home like you are mine.
No matter what I do,
I don't feel like home
and that's maybe because I am not a safe place to live in.
My windows have been shattered
and someone stole the door,
the walls have been ruined with spray paint
and droplets of water spill through the cracks.
But when you're here with me,
it stops raining
and the broken crystals from my broken window dance with the sunrays,
making beautiful light art,
the door-less entrance lets butterflies along with pollen from beautiful flowers in
and the spray paint looks like it's fading.
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