the shadows dance on the spot you left
indented in the mattress
a reminder of its emptiness.
we destroyed ourselves in the nick of time
to sell our souls to the new age
and uncover all the sins we wished to find.
the wind shakes the trees and my bones
our bodies no longer a place we call home
through trouble and turmoil
you'd think we'd have grown
but instead, we're trapped
in crowded bars, streets and houses
alone.

Every year is the same,
same people,
same places,
same time,
same faces.
They bring me their labeled tickets,
the same ugly tan-colored, black-inked tickets.
Bent and smudged as if it went through their wash.
No time for conversation,
not even small talk,
only the same old.... hello.
They sit, they smile, they leave.
They sit,
on that same old boring brown box,
"Feet placed where the red exes are please."
You think they'd already know that by now.
They smile,
tilting their head to the right,
their eyes looking directly at the lens,
looking as if they were hypnotized.
They leave,  
the camera flashes bringing them back to realization,
they release their breath,  
"Goodbye!" They say,
"Have a nice day!" They say.
Who I wanted to be is who I am not today,
who I wanted to be is not where society has placed me,
who I wanted to be is what society calls a joke,
who I wanted to be is free.
A photographer.
Not here working for life touch taking pictures of the same bland faces,
I imagined myself... flying,
Like a bird traveling around the world,
Capturing every moment I see,
Where the natural light glistens across the landscape,
where i can direct the poses of my subject.
But instead,
i'm stuck here taking pictures for life touch
of the same people,
at the same places,
of the same faces.

You remind me of the ocean,
And the ocean is my safe place.
Your eyes hold the color of the deepest depths of the sea,
And your voices is like the waves rolling against the shore.
Your soft hands on my skin is like the cool water washing over me,
And you always smell softly of palm tree’s.
You taste of tropical fruits and sea salt.
I love the ocean,
And you,
Are my ocean.
You are my safe place.
You are my ocean.

… for somewhere I've never been.
None of the places
I've used to store my ****
and myself
have ever made me feel anything
besides temporary warmth.
None of them have felt like
the relief that spring air brings
to my tired lungs
after a long, cold Upstate winter
when bitter turns sweet
and change is unexpectedly welcomed.

All these structures,
these secret keepers,
have never made me feel
like a dog in a field
or a child with a new toy
or the heavy sigh you let out
after another long day
of getting pushed around by the universe.

But before I die, I swear I'll find it -
a place where time is elusive
and I don't follow the clock
A place where the firing of synapses
aren't littered with cyclical logic
caring too much, or not at all
and every day is warm
like fresh laundry
and the sun shares its good graces
on the back of my neck
and this place will finally
earn the title "home".

By Arcassin Burnham


Decent degrees,  desert degrees,
They're all the same, you two need time
Apart to lie upon the furbished frame,
I think of love , I think of greed,  I think of hate,
I think of fighting,
They all correspond in what the world crisis is today in hopes to stay away from utter destruction, so the dysfunction
Has a hold on us,
The trees die, corporates build,
No care at all,
The lames they stay in places just to release all their hate,
Then look for a little shoulder crying when the other don't relate,
Ignorance doesn't make it far in a world as cold as this,
It could the power of negative spreading or in the face of a fist,
I think of things in life that keeps me living for tomorrows,
The vultures they creep, while being so flawed,  it's alright,  there are no more sorrows.