Page 2008 Spring Edition by Lauren Wright

PAGE WIS Literary Arts Magazine 2008-2009

As the people who had been the editors of Page for the past three years had graduated, we were apprehensive when it came to publishing the magazine this year. However, with the help of teachers and students, we feel that this edition has been very successful. It has been a pleasure working as the editors of a magazine for the first time, and we would like to thank all those who have contributed throughout the entire year as well as all those who have helped us get to where we are today. Cheers, Abigail C., Lillie B., and Amélie C-S PAGE Editors

Cover by M and A C-S

Table of Contents Si je te comprenais, grand-père… Anonymous Monochrome Garret W. Alcohol Anonymous Untitled Augusta R. Tes Yeux Catherine M. Untitled Meskerem L. Untitled Anonymous I Think it’s Gonna Rain Today Clayton U. Untitled Adriaan H. Gunpoint Joshua W. Untitled Michael T. True Love, Lost Anonymous Le Horla Amélie C-S Sicko Kristina D. Ősz Abigail C. Untitled Anonymous L’Horloge Anonymous

4 4 5 5 6 8 8 9 9 10 11 12 12 13 14 14 15

Untitled Christina K.V. She’s Happy Now Emma G. Ruined Castle Abigail C. Pull it Apart Amélie C-S Untitled Charlie C. Si Anonymous Untitled Gabriella B. Untitled Katia L. Tower Emma G. T.I. KING. Nyasha H. Singles Anonymous The Struggle Anonymous Untitled Kate C. The Peeling of the Heart Kristina D. Thundersnow Anonymous Untitled Emmanuelle AP Poems Anonymous

16 17 17 18 18 19 19 20 20 20 21 23 23 24 27 27 28

Si je te comprenais, grand-père…

By Anonymous

Si je parlais ta langue, Je pourrais dire “Bonjour” et “Comment ça-va?” Sans avoir un regard Perplexe Gêné Et Frustré Si je pouvais parler ta langue, grand-père Il n’y aurait pas ce mur entre nous Construit quand j’étais jeune, Solidifié pendant des années Mais si mes parents m’avaient parlé ta langue, Une langue chuchotée à travers les siècles, Une langue qui relie mes ancêtres, Ce mur transparent n’aurait jamais existé Et je n’aurais jamais été Perdue.

Monochrome Garret W. 5

Alcohol By Anonymous It’s no longer about the chicken or the egg, It now seems to be about the 40 or the keg. If life just seems bleak and dull No one will care if the cup is 1/2 empty or full. Just when they'll get a refill, Just sit and take a chill pill. If a tree falls in the wood no one will hear, Everyone is grabbing for a shot or a beer. I know I shouldn't be the one to chide, Alcohol has given me a long crazy ride. I just can't stand by anymore. People, stop acting like a whore. So mirror, mirror on the wall Please help my friends when they fall, Cause I gotta get out of this place Before everyone turns into a basket case

Augusta R. 6

Tes Yeux By Catherine M. 24 Octobre: « Bon Anniversaire ! », mon petit frère courrait le long du couloir célébrant son 7eme anniversaire. Je me suis soudainement aperçu que j’avais oublié de lui acheter son cadeau, tout ce qu’il voulait était la nouvelle voiture « Hot Wheels ». J’ai pris mon manteau rouge et j’ai couru le long des rues de Notre Dame de Gravenchon. J’habitais dans cette ville depuis 2 mois seulement, mais je savais tous les raccourcis. Je suis passé par une allée. Je ralentissais… Devant moi j’ai vu passer un petit chat noir aux yeux violets. J’ai failli retourner chez moi, les frissons passaient le long de mon dos, mais l’image de mon frère avec la voiture restait dans ma tête. Je continue. J’ai acheté le cadeau, mon frère l’a ouvert, j’ai même oublié le chat. 25 Octobre : Soudain je me suis réveillé. Le chat. Je l’ai vu. J’en suis sur ! Je me voyais marcher le long d’un couloir. Il n’y avait pas de photos, rien que des murs… Devant moi je voyais une petite porte noire. Je sentais quelque chose me suivre, lentement je me retournai, et voila ! Derrière moi, le chat. Je commençai à courir, la terreur me prit et ne me lâcha pas. Je cours vers la porte mais elle ne s’approche pas ! … puis je me suis réveillé. Que s’est il passe… ? 26 Octobre : Même cauchemar, je ne dormais point. 27 Octobre : Pour me vider la tête je décidai d’aller me promener a 3 :52am. Je marchais le long de la raffinerie, je voyais quelque chose bouger entre les pipes et les tours. La flemme brulait toute petite, comme un feu qui s’éteint. Tout me remplissait d’inquiétude, mes pieds étaient colles sur place, mon corps ne fonctionnait pas. Et, comme par Hasard, le chat passa devant moi comme si rien ne s’était passé. Puis je marchais, je me trouvais sur le trottoir devant ma maison, que se passe t-il… pourquoi ? Je suis rentré dans ma maison, tout était noir, j’essayais d’allumer la lumière. Rien, je continue à essayer… « William ? … Maman ? » Personne. Je m’avançais doucement le long du couloir vide. Je vis une silhouette d’un homme accroupi parterre. Brusquement tout commença à bouger, les fenêtres claquaient, les portes s’ouvraient, des livres volaient. L’homme s’avança vers moi. Calme, doux, c’était comme s’il contrôlait l’atmosphère. Tout s’arrêta. Nos yeux se croisèrent, c’était magique, le monde autour de nous s’arrêta. Nous sommes restés. Tout à coup il commença à courir vers la port, il l’ouvre et bondit. Tout ce 28 Octobre : Je n’ai rien compris de ce qui s’est passé hier, est-ce lui le chat ? C’est impossible, (qu’ai-je bu ?). J’ai finalement décidé que je suis folle.

que j’ai vu âpres, c’était un chat aux yeux violets. 28 Octobre : Je n’ai rien compris de ce qui s’est passé hier, est-ce lui le chat ? C’est impossible, (qu’ai-je bu ?). J’ai finalement décidé que je suis folle. 29 Octobre : Pas de nouvelles, je n’ai pas revu le chat ou le garçon depuis 2 jours ! Ma mère m’a dit d’aller au parc avec William, mon frère. Je vais continuer ma vie comme elle l’était. Nous sommes arrivés au parc et William est tout de suite parti voir ses amis. Je m’assieds sur un banc. A ma droite, sur le banc, Le chat aux yeux violets ! Il s’avança doucement vers moi et s’assoie sur mes jambes. C’était comme s’il savait ce que je pensais car il m’a regardé et j’ai entendu, « Oui, C’est moi ». Attends… Je parle à un Chat… Je suis folle ! « Mais non, c’est vrai, t’inquiète pas », Alors quoi maintenant ? « Rien, on n’est pas pareil », et il s’en alla, sans dire un mot. 30 Octobre : J’ai dormi parfaitement hier soir, et, me réveillant de bonne humeur, j’ai complètement oublié l’histoire du chat. Les décorations commençaient… Halloween. 31 Octobre : Halloween Il était 6 :30 pm et William venait juste de finir son tour de « Trick or Treat », déguisé comme un chine. Je l’ai emmené à la maison, puis je suis sorti avec mes amis. Tout était noir, mes amis sont partis… « Ou êtes vous ? ». Je commençais à devenir terrifiée, mon cœur battait vite. Tout à coup, je voyais la silhouette dans la distance, mais cette fois c’était un chat, et non pas le garçon aux yeux violets. Le chat s’avança vers moi, et, quand il était à peu près 3 mètres de moi, la forme se transforma. Je le vis devant moi, ce chat qui se transforme en garçon de mes rêves. Il se leva. Tout ce que je pouvais dire, « Tes Yeux ». « Oui », sa voix était basse, mais harmonieuse. Je ne pouvais pas fonctionner, je ne savais pas quoi dire. Lentement son visage s’approcha du mien… 1 Novembre : J’ai passé la meilleure Halloween de ma vie, Luke (le chat) et moi, avons passé toute la soirée ensemble. Le seul problème c’est qu’il n’arrête pas de disparaitre. Je ne comprendrais jamais ces créatures.

Meskerem L.

Untitled By Anonymous Cavernous cathedral of commuters I hear the station pastor’s preachings Echo off your cool stone depths White pious pilgrims descend The electric tunnel to the gate And work into the belly of the platform Ribcage of a prehistoric beast Tunnels like arteries Red arteries, blue yellow Open lines We await your coming in somber silence Train! Light blinking, rise in anticipation Slithe! Slither welcomed on the edge Hair Suspended

I Think It’s Gonna Rain Today

By Clayton U.

Grows and flows across the mountains Through peaceful rivers Down in the bay Human Kindness Is Overflowin And I think it’s gonna Rain today

And whenever I’m sad or lonely I’ll turn my head up to the sky those thick rain clouds keep on growing I know they grow Because you’re so kind

Thick grey rain clouds won’t beat no lightnin’ as we roam throughout these lands feel so happy just can’t hold it gracious teardrops fall to my hands

The sky has opened Can you feel it falling It’s so thick I can hardly see I don’t mind it It’s quite lovely Your kindness raining down on me

~ This song was written for Kyoko Hattori. I met Kyoko on the Japan trip this past summer in 2008. She was our guide during the two week trip. I was very moved by her abundant generosity and kindness that she shared with the group and myself. Never had I met someone who was so passionate about sharing her knowledge and hospitality with others. I wanted to thank her… so I wrote this song and sang it to her to thank her for the wonderful experience we all shared.

Adriaan H. 10

Gunpoint By Joshua W. Derek could only stand, not daring to speak, too stunned to move. Running right before his face was a length of steel and a bony arm wrapped in a dark blue sleeve. Beyond this was the face of his onetime friend, the man who had once vowed to stay by his side until the end— now, all of Derek’s life was hanging in Brad’s curled-up finger, and all could be lost to one misguided step to the side. “Let it go, man,” Derek begged. “Please, you ain’t gotta do this!” “SHUT UP!” Brad yelled. “SHUT UP! I was hopin’ it wouldn’t come to this.” Looking close at Derek, he could actually see his heart thrusting his shirt up and down with each beat. All the while, Derek stood with his hands raised high in the air. He wondered if a swipe to the gun could beat a bullet to his liver. Don’t try it, he pleaded with himself, just DON’T. Stay cool or get struck down, it’s that simple. “How’d you wah’nit to end up?” he asked. “Is any of this worth a life in prison?” Am I actually crying? It’s not easy to tell. “Don’t give me THAT!” Brad growled. “Just LISTEN! Listen to me! If you ever try doing that again, if you ever so much as think about it….” “You’re taking it too far!” Derek yelled, and his echo shot out across the whole space under the bridge. I heard it from a block away. Brad grabbed his arm and twisted him around. Even as Derek stumbled, he felt the gun prodding into his back all the way to the ground. “Get up,” Brad ordered to no response. “I said get up!” Derek did so and brought his palms, freshly cut by the concrete, onto his head. Never once was the gun barrel removed from his spine. “So… what now?” Derek winced. “Well, I could stab your back with a bullet,” Brad warned, and then made a clicking sound to confirm the threat. “Maybe I’ll turn around and smile at you first. Yeah, what’s so bad about that? Smile in your face and then blast you in the back, right? Doesn’t that kinda match what YOU did to ME?” Derek stopped himself from answering right away. Prudent wordplay, he knew, might come in handy right now. “I didn’t want to hurt you,’ he began. ‘I just had no clue… she just didn’t seem the type

to…”

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HER!” he bellowed wrathfully. “How much could you have learned in one night, huh? ANSWER ME!” All the time, I was running from around the corner, frantic to catch sight of the action. But then, just as I took off, there was a blast of steam from above me and the scream of an engine. A freight train was heading the same way as me, straight along the tracks above.

Brad probably noticed this, because his eyes clicked up in curiosity, just in time to catch some soot as the train rattled overhead. “Agh!” he cried. And Derek exploded down the lane. Just as I arrived on the scene there was a sound— a gunshot— practically drowned out by the deafening noise. A yelp and some heavy cursing. Derek had swerved out of the way just in time, making Brad miss. But he’d surely be taking another shot— and this time with the proper aim. “Don’t do it!” I shouted to no avail. “There’s something you don’t know! Something huge!” But Brad was clearly not paying the slightest attention. I dropped to my knees in confusion, my hands glued to the side of my head. Then there came a frightening sound— another gunshot, or the train, booming overhead? I looked up and moaned in fright.

Michael T.

True Love, Lost By Anonymous Come and sit with me, I'll start at the beginning Try to keep up, by the end you head will be spinning We all are alone, everyone is sad and blue Then you find the one who’s right for you Love sparks up and the attraction is so strong It feels like nothing can be done that is wrong You touch her and she touches you back Everything in life is all perfectly on track Now the next part is where things start to fall Something will happen that is impossibly small And whether you like it or not there will be a fight Arguments will last for hours, maybe even all night With out time to talk it over, everything will crumble And leave you both confused, yet strangely humble If you do stop to talk then everything will be OK Your relationship can exist for yet another day What I am saying is in the end most relationships fail And only the ones meant to be will actually prevail Now the only thing to do is find your own true love, don't fret More importantly don't lose her, or it is something You will regret

Le Horla Amélie C-S

Sicko By Kristina D. Poison dripping from your eyes. Will no one heal me, in the dark? Arid dryness on your tongue. Will you not look at me, dear one? Cracked and bleeding, putrid flesh. Have you a coin to spare, good man? Watching people pass you by. Then you will be as how I am. -Merry skies are twirling gaily. Hear it whisper in your head. Tumbling into inner madness. Cast your mind to look ahead. You have visions and dry coughing. Every limb is filled with lead. Choose to live, to fester slowly Never seek a wasteful death. -On the curve of the dry skin, White, transparent flakes peel off. See how they tumble, like shriveled snow. Through the peeling of the flesh, Red will flash in front of you. See the blossom unyielding its core. Tiny folds of fat within, Suck a bead of welling blood. See the tear drop on the split.

Ósz By Abigail C. Les feuilles qui tombent Forment un beau bouquet Parterre de couleurs automnal In shades of red and yellow Gold-touched by King Midas’ hand To be veined in pure metal Comme s’ils sont précieux Le trésor de la couronne arboricole Or maybe satin slippers for her daughters Les princesses fées qui dansent Pieds nus dans ce mélange de beauté And spread their wings To flit between the falling ships That sail the empty space Entre la terre et les étoiles

Anonymous

L’Horloge By Anonymous 4 Septembre: Aujourd’hui je me sentais à l’étroit dans ma maison. Je suis sorti dehors pour me promener et prendre de l’air frais. J’observais autour de moi les feuilles des arbres qui commençaient a peine à jaunir. Au début, je ne savais pas où mes pieds me guidaient. Je marchais dans les rues qui allaient de ma maison jusqu’à la petite ville de St. Gabriel. Finalement je compris où j’allais: chez l’antiquaire. Je regardais autour de moi en apercevant tous les trésors anciens. Des petits souvenirs de gens qui sont maintenant morts. J’ai acheté une horloge. 5 Septembre: L’horloge ne marche pas. 6 Septembre: J’ai bien nettoyé l’horloge aujourd’hui. Je pense que la qualité de l’air dans cette saison empêche l’horloge de marcher. Avec l’atmosphère sèche et froide je ne peux monter l’horloge. J’attendrais le beau temps. 10 Avril: Quelle journée merveilleuse! J’essayais de remonter l’horloge. Je n’ai pas pu. Je savais bien que l’horloge était propre et l’homme du magasin d’antiques m’a assuré que toutes les choses dans son magasin marchent parfaitement. Mais avec toute ma force je n’ai pas remonter l’horloge. Je m’endormis. Minuit: J’étais réveillé par mon horloge qui sonner 12 coups très fort. Je savais fort bien que l’horloge ne marchait pas; c’était surement un rêve. 11 Avril: Je suis allé voir l’horloge et bien sur ça ne marchait toujours pas. Le temps que l’horloge avait dit quand je l’avais acheté (3h 23) avait seulement changé par une minute depuis Septembre. Minuit: Encore l’horloge a sonné 12 fois! Ce n’était pas un rêve. Je suis allé voir l’horloge et j’ai vu un bonhomme tous vieux et petit dedans qui claque les cloches de l’horloge! Tout à coup il disparaît. Le sonnement s’arrêta. 12 Avril: Je me suis réveillé et en mangeant mon croissant je me demandais si je devenais fou. Peu à peu, je formai un plan: J’attendrai tout près de l’horloge jusqu’à minuit. Devant l’horloge: J’avais peur. Peut-être le petit bonhomme était méchant. Avait-il des pouvoirs qui pouvaient me faire mal? Mes bras étaient couverts de chaire de poule. Mon front produisait de la sueur qui coulait dans mes yeux et brulait.

11h 30: Trente minutes! Je paniquais! Allai-je survivre? Ce plan était stupide et dangereux. Mais je n’avais aucun choix. Je resterais ici jusqu’à minuit. J’étais trop curieux et je n’avais personne pour qui vivre. Minuit: L’homme apparaît à la fenêtre de l’horloge. Il prit son petit marteau pour faire sonner l’horloge, mais au lieu de sonner, soudain il sortit de l’horloge. Brusquement il était juste à côté de moi. Il chuchota dans mon oreille: “suis moi”. Je marchais derrière sa silhouette fragile et vieille. Tout à coup j’ai su! C’était absolument un rêve! Je savais pourquoi il semblait tellement vivide: c’était à cause du médicament que je prenais pour m’endormir. Après la mort de Julie je ne pouvais plus dormir car j’étais si triste. Elle était morte depuis le 10 Avril: Le jour que l’homme était entré dans mon horloge. Peut-être l’homme me prenait pour voir Julie! Mais non, c’était un rêve. 13 Avril: Qu’est ce qui s’est passé? J’étais juste derrière l’homme et je le suivais puis ce matin je me trouve dans mon lit. Sans autres souvenirs de la nuit précédente. Est-ce-que c’était un rêve? La réalité? Je paniquais…cet homme pouvait effacer ma mémoire! Me bouger tant qu’il était si vieux! Comment? Il allait me tuer, j’en étais certain. Il avait un lien avec la mort de Julie! Sûrement il me croyait responsable pour l’accident de voiture. Je devais m’échapper! Je courus jusqu’à ma voiture sans regarder derrière moi. Je sentais l’horreur couler dans mes veines. J’allais mourir. J’en étais sûr. Je conduisais avec une vitesse maximum vers mon futur noir sans espoir.

Christina K. V.

She’s Happy By Emma G. I was young, I was happy, We didn’t know What we had. She was older, She was wiser. We each grew up, Each in our own little box. Mine grew as I did, Hers was often too small. Everyday she fought, And every time it was for naught. I was 5, She was 9. We played games, We fought, she won. She always got there first. When I was 12, She was 16. We were nearly equals, We laughed and we cried, We fought (but not as much). We shared so much we were Nearly the same. Our jokes, our complaints And yet we were so different I guess I was happier than she But now she’s gone And won’t come back. She tells me She’s happier than ever before.

Ruined Castle By Abigail C. Crumbling walls Darkened halls Weathered stone Left alone For many years Through many tears Fallen hangings Ruined splendor Ancient gardens Long past weeds Climbing roses Scattered parchment Once lush terraces Gone to seed Tumbled balconies Musty rooms Dusty corners Sense of doom Piles of bone Broken wide Staring skulls Killed by pride

Pull It Apart By Amélie C-S Pull it apart, then let go. That’s all. You see it, you have to stretch it. Isn’t that so? It goes round and around, Repeating. It goes out, then comes back. On and on. Different shapes, different colors, A mere object. That is all that you see, But not me. No, that is too simple. I see more. The spaces in between, The negative. It all means so much more to me, So much more. You cannot see what it is, But me, I can. You cannot touch it, I can grab it. You could never hear it, It’s yelling at me. You would hate it if you knew what it was, But I think it is beautiful. I can control it. I can make it mine, But I can’t destroy it. You see, me, I want it to end, Go away. I can stretch it, just like you. Make it longer. But I can never pull it too far, Never by my hands. No, as hard as I may try I will never truly break it. It will never leave. I hate it. Disappear.

SI By Anonymous Si j’étais née aux temps passés J’aurai porté un corset toute l’année. J’aurai dansé aux bals toute la nuit Et je me serais promené au parc à une heure et demie. Si j’étais née quand les hommes étaient “gentlemen” J’aurais diné avec eux une fois par semaine J’aurais eu des bonnets, des rubans et de belles choses. Et j’aurais porté une robe de mousseline rose. Si j’étais née dans un monde plus poli J’aurais eu une bonne pour faire mon lit. J’aurais eu un cuisinier et un portier Et j’aurais rêvassé toute la journée sous un pommier. Mais si j’étais née à cette époque disparue, Je n’aurais jamais rencontré mon amour: vous.

Gabriela B.

Katia L.

Tower Emma G.

Nyasha H.

Singles By Anonymous Chocolate Strike hard, make it quick, and mouth is stained with something dark. Hiding Sitting as still as you can, legs bent into odd positions, breathing as deeply as you can. Interaction Silent is my laughter, and your glare has no bite to it. Porcelain Sensuality in the angle of the jaw, the bones of the wrists and the crook of the knee. Strong See if you can lift the mask and let me wipe the blood off. Masochist Singing with the wheals, crying in an embrace. Flirt Smiles are as feral as they are friendly. Toboggan Snow sometimes burns hotter than fire. Decadence Slimness is overrated anyways. Doomed Shredding flowers in the dusk and wondering if they had hoped to live until morning. Boys Slime and shoelaces, cars, milkshakes and grass, metal, worn leather, grins and innuendoes. Eternal Story, drivel, the ranting of a lunatic, epic legend, sitcom, poetry, whatever you want to call it.

Blisters Still, it’s better than doing nothing. Trouble Sordid thoughts are okay, just as long as they don’t find their way out of you head and to your hands. Affection Sickness is just another way of telling people you need them. Guilt Slinging rocks, not noticing the young bird flying, looking the wrong way. Thunder Storm was short, and the walk to his parents’ bedroom even shorter. Envy Silk and velvet, the luster of wood polish and silver, hazy through the cold wet glass of the window. Family Settling down, getting married, building a world for a few people. Want Send me away and I just might get you to come to me. Insipid Style is the ability to fail a little differently each time. Being Stress toughens me up, breaks you down, and gives us an acrid taste of real life. Survivor Slowly he makes his shocked way barefoot over the broken glass and the film of body fluids. Unholy Santa’s a pedophile, the Easter Bunny doesn’t have a distributor’s license, Mother Nature is a whore, father Time is deranged, Cupid is on crack and god is a little girl who killed herself.

The Struggle Anonymous

Kate C. 24

The Peeling of the Heart By Kristina D. Don’t You Care? I wish that every time I scream, every window in the world was shattered, so that people far away would look around and wonder what makes them shiver so. Then they see it’s just the wind blowing in and the pain of a thousand restless souls spilling out their hate into the sink. It’s a kind of chill that shawls and tea just can’t cure, which sinks into the marrow of your bones so deeply that even death can’t drive it away. The blossom is frozen in eternal growth beneath the surface of the iced pond, and is there to remain until the sun turns time back on again. It’s in the flicker of electric lights in graffitied bathroom stalls, and in the webs of the fingers that puncture flesh with silver needles, making it bleed out forgetfulness. It’s in the vapid smile of the doll in the dusty corner as a child clutches at in and curls away from the sounds of naked domestic violence at its best. Maybe if we could all pool emotions together, flinch in real pain as someone else is hit, then maybe, just maybe, the people at the train station would turn around to look out the window and see the small woman with her hands pressed against the panes, crying as she runs and struggles to keep up with a world that she was never meant to keep. Come up with me to the narrow tin roof, and believe me when I say you’ll be safe, and breathe in the lovely rain beating out music at our feet, and stay with me as we gaze out past the darkness of the night and become hypnotized by the light of the moon catching at the panes of empty, lifeless windows. Please tell me that I am all that you will ever fear, because I am all that you could ever lose. Please tell me you know that I am the sight to the blindness of your heart. Come here. And don’t cry so hard. I promise, my love, that you will never be cold again.

A Hundred Nights The rippling of raw, tormented skin. Eyes following in silence, fascinated. Every day we come and go with fluctuations in between of our happiness, our pain, our strength and eroding will to live. Let the brilliant glory of life burn the flesh off of our charred bones. Resilience in people can be stretched to a breaking point, ecstasy can be found simply in the glass of water you have screamed days for, never heard. And now pain has no meaning for you, because it is all you have known in living memory, and relief is something foreign looked at with confusion. There is still that need in you to go on, and it’s costing you so much more than just your appetite. Belly-up, stripped naked, spatters, surging to your core. The little glass bottle won’t save you this time, so shut up, smile, and watch the death show. Bound in cracked leather, fingers broken, bowing to the god before you. Can’t you see the sitcom on television flicker faster and faster with each beat of my heart? Can’t you smell the seared living tissue coming through the door’s cracks from many years ago? I’m so sorry that I have to break it to you, but the little black spots that follow you are only going to get worse. You should have known that it would end like this. You did? Since when? Ah, good. Now come weep with me in the bitterness of ignorance, and maybe I’ll spare you this time.

Alibi Order out of legislature. Watch the sunrise, see the moon fall. To overcome your inner demons, you must first see the poison ooze out of their eyes. Genocide polishing bureaucracy at its best. Catch at the clasps fastening us together in a mass of misery and fly away on wings of flame that scorch you as you laugh in glee. Press the knife to your heart and remember the world as it was before you saw the first hideous angel being pulled away from normal people by the men in pretty uniforms as it screamed words you couldn’t understand. Mama, what’s wrong with the lady? Mama? Why is she covered in blood? Why is she naked?

Mama? Is the lady sick? …yes, dear. That must be it. So they’re going to take care of her now? Yes. That’s exactly what they’ll do. Are… are you crying, mama? … I knew her. She said that she was already lost to her. I let the scarlet flowers blossom from iron vines growing from my stretched skin.

Wells of Tar Face turned up to take your blows like a flower to the sun. Wring out those sleeves, dripping from the tears they drank. Don’t you love the way the nightmares always seem to come back after we have made each other spurt them out in screens of scarlet? And don’t you think that the tenderness we feel for all that is exquisite and dark and as mysterious as what goes on in our twisted minds, don’t you think it all comes from an inner insecurity? That’s what makes us these sickening, fetid dogs. And so I feel the desperate need to breathe in the wrongness in you and choke on it. I want to be the rot that’s gnawing at you from the inside. Don’t you feel the same? Take my hand, feel me under the sweat and your shivering, clammy skin. Let me push back your hair and let me see you flinch again under than familiar touch, often felt and yet unknown to you. Don’t think the oddity of my love is misdirected memories from a childhood I’d really rather not talk about. And I need you to know that all we have ever felt in this place into which we were born are ripples in the pond when the stone of burden had been cast into it. We were never wanted. We seem just as the mindless hoards of others. They don’t know what it’s like to live day after day with your entire will and self focused on not going insane, not letting out the suppressed feelings, walking up to them and ripping their perfect faces off. And yet… if we seem to be just like them, how do I know that everyone is not like me?

Thundersnow By Anonymous I would love to be as wild as thundersnow I want to be as unpredictable as a tornado I would love to be as rare as snow on an April afternoon I want to be like a lunar eclipse in cool evening in June. I would love to be as loved as the first snow day I want to be as bright and fast as a single sun's ray I would love to be as wide open as the seas I want to be as gentle as a sea breeze I would love to be as tall as a mountain I want to be as serene as a fountain I would love to be as strong as a hurricane I want to be as sweet as a fresh sugar cane I would love to be as fast as a shooting star I want to stay with you where ever you are

Emmanuelle A.P.