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Los suspiros son aire y van al aire.
Las lágrimas son agua y van al mar.
Dime, mujer, cuando el amor se olvida,
        ¿sabes tú adónde va?
 Nov 2020 ConnectHook
Cné
~
slip your fingers
where longing rages
deep between
my undiscovered
pages

-
 Nov 2020 ConnectHook
july hearne
kandis never raised her little girl voice
and was such a good person,
she had no use for evil people
who spoke their minds
kandis was so good, she didn't have unkind
words to say about ed murray

so good in fact, that she once escorted someone
out of a bar in bellevue, wa for talking about
what a ******* ed murray was and still is to this day
kandis did NOT want the world to be polluted by people
who called child rapists pieces of ****

eric didn't like his right arm or his left leg,
he would weep quietly into his lonely pillow
at night until the day kandis softly encouraged
him to cut off both

eric felt a sense of relief wash over him
when kandis suggested that,
so he proceeded to have his right arm amputated at the shoulder
and his left leg amputated mid-thigh

this did nothing to make eric feel whole,
when he confided in kandis that the amputation
had done nothing to relieve him of disphoria,

kandis would have none of it
and softly encouraged him to cut off his left arm
and his right leg,

which eric proceeded to do.

eric lies in bed with two nubs where his arms used to be
and two stumps where his legs used to be
each nub and each stub are beginning to rot,
blackly rot,
but he receives a lot of validation on twitter
because there are such good people in this world
and aren't you one of them?
Cracks in her eyelids
Sweat on her skin
Her hair is in dreadlocks
Scabs on her shins

Sleep tight little native
Of the land of Nod
The sandman will come to you
He is your god

You scratch with cracked nails
The needles & spoons
Fentynal takes you
To marshmallow moon's

Cracks on your eyelids
The tieoff that binds
The narcolepsy
Closes your blinds

What is your idol?
What's hiding there?
Who are you worshiping
Who answers your prayers?

He waits with arms open
Bright shining knight
Man on the street
The green or the white

Don't be blue, baby
You're struggling for breath
Then you're a statistic

A $10 death.

SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
11/19/2020
Looting. Burning.
Building's fire.
They rob and mob.
They do not tire.
Some are anarchists.
Some for hire.
The TV blasts. It is a liar.
An airplane skims
a telephone wire.

Where is it going?
Where can it land?
Every runway
shifting sand.
All citizens
are in their bands.
We are under
Judgement's Hand.

America.
Alive with stasis.
All opponents
in their places.
No room for love
in those rat races.
We could be gone
without any traces.

No trace of culture.
No money earned.
All gain is stealing.
Compassion spurned.
Museums raided.
Books are burned.

Hard to watch it.
Trees are felled.
Racial violence.
Hatred sells.
Anthropology
gone to hell.

All hope is
A WISHING WELL.

SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
11/18/2020
the whale is heavier in gold when dead
the tree worth more when planed into planks
the flower's so pretty but dies in the vase
when last did we stop to say thanks?
I sit before this bottle trapped in paralyzing fear
Remembering a prophecy once told to me in a previous year
An Oracle once said to me that upon my endeavors I'd find a Genie
To not be fooled and that I must think freely
That I'd be her master but really her servant
To proceed with caution and be vigilantly observant
That she'll try to trick me into falling in love
And under her magic I'd be blindly trapped of
That she'd look like the woman of my dreams far more beautiful than a model
But you can't marry a Genie even if you polish the bottle
It's been over a century since the last time she was active
From the bottle to which she's eternally held captive
That I wouldn't ask for my wishes to be made real
But instead with her I'd attempt to strike a deal
I tried to throw it away
But it found its way back to me
I tried to move away
But its like the bottle only followed me
Seems I have no other option but to fulfill this prophecy
With that lingering fear that she'll get the best of me
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