The longer I stay away from people
The less human I become
Wondering if there’s something
Wrong with me
Because I don’t miss
the frenetic motion of my old life.
Category: Poetry
Mourning by G S
At 4am, I’m angry.
Well,
I’m sad,
But that’s part of it too.
How come they get to carry on?
Why you not one of them?
Digital Distortions by Anthony R. Salandy
I find myself begging for identity
In a world where to be anything
The ultimate choice
Is to be adored on ethereal platforms
Sister by Charles K. Carter
Sister, they always said we were the bright ones, the ones who were going to go so far, but here we are, only twenty-five miles from the house that wasn’t a home, twenty-five miles from the man who’s staticy voice taught us that we were much less worthy than what we ever were.
Jewel Box by Donatella du Plessis
Shrill-voiced nocturnals
Come here at night to drink,
After Feminism by Natalie Marino
Still, a woman wades at the shore of a man’s sea.
When we speak it is too loud, as if we don’t know how.
Quiet’s value imprinted itself when we watched our mothers.
We say yes without listening to the question, without needing
to know what the question is.
Self-Portrait as an Inferno by Jane Burn
I saw the birthing of a crazy phoenix – saw it raise hackles of fire,
span its bright wings of pain, sear the night with a flock of sparks.
It made a spear of embers and flew its pyre into the night –
crackled with vicious feathers, spat its language of waste
Still Ill by Clara Roberts
I’m emaciated, wearing blue corduroy’s—sitting on the splintered wooden floor.
I look at the man, Kevin, who injects himself—the needle permanent as it pierces the skin. When I watch him, all I think of is when it’s going to be my turn. He’s used heroin intermittently for fourteen years and fights to find a vein.
For a Brighter Day by Mark McConville
Slender moments
Slender touch,
Blue eyes seeing red
A freckled face in the mirror
In a battered apartment room
Where tears are commonplace
Where aromas of sex and wine
Intertwine.