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By: Elizabeth J. Crowl
Our condemned house Hands sinking into the soaked plaster water constantly leaking through the house more ceilings collapsing in each minute black mold spread deadly gases emerge mustard + Milwaukee’s Best in the fridge alone A sole can of waxed beans in the cupboard Who the hell eats waxed beans anyway Stale, foul smell of neglect + unwashed clothes Quiet, eerily so Mom’s in the pen again Dad’s out drinking or in jail Honestly, who can keep up No love A house, but damn sure not a home Black + white, all color is lost Depression Worthlessness Wandering 15 years is too long of a life Where is everyone Perhaps I’m already dead Finally the outsides match my soul By: Mollie Ann
6. 64. 641 Sunset St. I do not live here no more. All that remains is a house, 5 dogs and 1 woman. A lonely woman. A lonely woman that fills her house with odds and ends of this and that and nick nacks of all sorts. Time flies by as she gets lost in her mind sitting at her desk, doodling and doodling as two hours pass by and she falls asleep sitting, hunched over the desk. She wakes up with a kink in her neck dogs barking like crazy and someone banging on the door. By: Hilary Papaleo
What’s the strangest thing about you? Is it the way you see the light inside the dark? Finding comfort in the ugliness of the damaged The broken The dead Is it the joy and laughter you carry during the storm? The way you run towards the thunder, Arms reaching to the blackened sky? Is it just the way you’ve learned how to survive? Staring destruction in the face And daring it to try. By: Skylor Ballentine
What are your pronouns? No one ever asks. “They should fir your gender” Sorry I’m a gender bender. I’m not typical, As you can see. Sometimes I wish I could flee From criticism and hate But when I stand my ground I say They and Them is who I am. |
By: Maddy Rindfleisch
My mouth is dry but for once I’m not stoned. I’m just scared and my palms are sweaty, forehead clammy I won’t cry this time, maybe when I get home, or to my car, or to the bathroom. Where I’ll try not to let my eyes wet try to keep my face from getting flushed. I wear my whole soul on my sleeves. My seams come loose around the edges, I pick apart the moth holes in my sweater, inside of me, even more, but you can’t smell cedar, just smoke, and sweat, and the things you forgot about in the back of your closet. By: KMR
A little girl walks through the woods noticing a caterpillar. She picks it up to add to her bug catcher. She feels all itchy and scratchy. She is experiencing her first Allergic Reaction. She goes home. Where he mom gives her Benadryl, and she takes a cold shower. She feels relief from the intense itching. Benadryl is her new best friend. By: Tashenna Browning
Why does it hurt? Is the pain real or in my mind? When does it go away? Why is my light so dim? Why can’t it be bright like the sun? I want to see the colors of life, but my own demons halt my existence. Why can’t I just let go and live? I just want to be free like the wings of an eagle in the sky. By: Jerry Winkler
Playing in the sands of time, with my puppy in a whirlwind of colors and emotions. Time stood still. By: Dan Gisewhite
Why doesn’t anyone ask me how I’m doing? Why am I feeling so alone? Is it that nobody cares or is it something that I’ve done? Why is it always so dark inside a constant and endless void? Will I always feel this way? Why do I always feel so annoyed? By: pK
My Wonderment is is it as what it is or what as is is |
