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 Jun 2017
gillian chapman
i slowly cave in on myself
and the sky smells of falling stars—
i can taste it, leaking in through
the cracks. i ascend, like a hot
air balloon, my body filled
with moonlight, the dust
falling off the trail of a comet.
the night is dripping paint,
navy blue and black, the ravens
are cutting holes in the air and
neptune shines through, a minty
frost, ice and starlight. my feet
are far above the clouds—an
icarus floating in the dark,
dark sky, and i reach for cygnus
—no more light pollution here.
lyra plucks its golden strings
and the moon sings a lullaby,
sweet and slow like drops
of mercury. and there, as
stardust glows through my skin,
replaces sore organs with light
and swallows each aching bit,
i sleep.
(g.c.) 1/5/17
 Jun 2017
gillian chapman
i. my chest shivers with my heartbeat—a hummingbird, flapping its wings.
ii. the first spring sunlight, warm rays of melted gold. light falls like a blanket, lucent, scintillating bronze aglow.
iii. redness on skin, marigolds flowering, blossoming pink scattered on cheeks like stardust. a thousand million comets, light and more light.
iv. warm grass beneath my fingers, sprouting up and growing through my body towards the sun.
v. fields of wildflowers. rosy morning sunrise over ocean. light, light, and light, draping over earth like curtains of amber, twinkling. bokeh pouring through forest canopies, a solar sedative, the fauna doze. light, more light, drizzling from sunbeams, riding on the claws of the birds.
vi. warm golden blankets, lulling the world to sleep.
(g.c.) 2/12/17
 Jun 2017
gillian chapman
let us speak
of the way death
splinters through a life
before ripping it away.
let us mourn
and kneel on dirt before
the gravestone—
death sows the seeds
of the violets that bloom.
let us hollow
out our chests, reach
our hands through
holes in the lungs,
hoping to grasp air
and receiving nothing.
let us weep
as we clutch our
fingers over wounds,
let the blood soak them
like sunlight. it is all
we have left.
(g.c) 3/12/17
 Jun 2017
a m a n d a
i am the foundation.*

i am the
b a s e [bass]
   you build
            worlds upon.
 Jun 2017
aurora kastanias
For too long they believed
You were static, finite
In time and space,
An inanimate background
To existence, a black canvas
Dotted with stars, awkwardly
Evolving around us.

Forever will I be in ecstasy
Before you, your might
And dynamic motions,
So perfectly tuned as to provide
Humankind with life.
 Jun 2017
Scarlett Tropical
I feel like you live in a tunnel.
The gloomy night couldn’t explain the darkness inside,
And you scared away everyone only because you cried.
All the droplets of water plunge below the unknown,
Soon you’ll be calling that place your home.
You’re dying to have flames dance around your lips,
And fall in love with the taste that causes you to slip.
When you think you have all the balance to stand,
And take a step towards the way out of this maze,
You’d step into a trap and then sink into quicksand.

Your shattered heart feels like broken bones,
And broken bones came from thrown stones.
The words that echo through your ears,
Leave your mind quickly with tears.
Please sign a note to your parents and friends,
With all the blood covering your colorful pens.
Please keep your fingers around my palm,
I would never ever let you drown.

I feel like you live in a tunnel.
The gloomy night couldn’t explain the darkness inside,
And you scared away everyone only because you cried.
I’ve entered this shelter of yours,
I brought a light to this shelter of yours.
Although it’ll take days upon days, I will find you,
And when I do, I’ll paint your skies blue.
I’ll show you what it’s like to smell fresh air,
And treat your heart with gentle and care.
Please keep your fingers around my palm,
I would never ever let you drown.

You’ll be okay.
No one's gonna read this but oh well
 May 2017
ryn
I consumed a small
vial of courage today.

And it got me out of my mind,
my aches
and my bed.

It got me showered,
dressed
and out the door.

It helped me on the bus,
through the rumble of
the exhausted engine.
It deflected the stares from eyes
who seemingly judged.

It placed me at work.
Fuelled me through
the sledgehammer ticks
that echo never ending seconds.

And I eventually find myself home...

So I consumed a small
vial of courage today.
And I'm brave enough
to admit that I'm afraid.

Afraid that I may be running out.
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