Xanadu
 

Stargazers watch you, twinkling in the sky; they see a tiny point in a deep, vast ocean, just like all the other bright dots  on that dark canvas. They don’t see the millions of years you have lived— the life now long behind you. Perhaps you have already gone, your life extinguished in a bright supernova. Perhaps you collapsed  until you extinguished yourself, hydrogen becoming helium becoming carbon— Dying the death of a dwarf star. They cannot know, from their safe earthly

My color is vibrant,  hours of work housed  within my stitches and chains. Soft and delicate yarn, warming the tender skin underneath my surface.  A stitch rips, my creation being reversed one stitch at a time.  I am powerless unable to defend my intricate design. My yarn unravels, chains coming undone. Ditched in the dumpster, the skin I once warmed  now eerily cold. My colors have been coated, drowned in suffering. I hold on to the few strings left, trying to piece together

Mars Stephanie Gomez Like a god of war still feeling vulnerable – I fight for my life. Stars  Matthew Santamaria Raindrops tapping glass like the rhythmic beat of jazz swinging through the stars. Hades Camora McKay Just a pour of peace when I drink from the darkness– at home in Hades. Rising Fire Finn Brown Woke up this morning sun on the horizon–that big ball of fire. Night  Jamarra Pazchica I look to the stars when I feel angry or dark– healed by the night’s light. ​ Unansw

I want to be the legs you walk on- to take you in the right direction. I want to be your warm leather eyes to show the beauty in the world, then the eyelashes to protect you from its dangers. I want to be your pair of dark washed out cherry lips… for nothing more than just to truly feel and taste them to their fullest. I want to be your swirling curly hair so I can connect to your head, to truly understand you. Be the ears on your head to disclose these true words of love. Be

Tobacco is still tobacco Whether it's a single mothers coping mechanism, or a cheap old woman's perfume. Magnificent mint flavoring escapes from adolescence. Tobacco is still tobacco permeating the respiratory system slowly. Growing on tropical cultivation. Lead and arsenic in the bloodstream. Brown stained teeth, bloody gums. Cleaver sharped pains hit the chest. Whether it's once a day or all the time— tobacco is still tobacco.

Awoken to sugarbirds stirring outside my window, I run down the stairs and into the kitchen. Soft soles making a pitter patter against the cold tile floor. I sit at the dining table, rubbing my eyes. Burnt toast and butter with a mug of Milo is neatly arranged. Each bite just as sweet as your humming. Inconsequential to you, refreshing to me. Bathing in that silver tub, bubbles to my chin. My hair like honey basking in the sunlight. Your garden surrounds me. The sweet scent o