As I Die

I breathe water, I drink air.

The world is mine, none to spare.

But what will come when time is spent?

Am I alone, will I relent?

Ticking memories, passing cries.

I breathe water, I drink air.

The world is mine, none to spare.

But what will come when time is spent?

Am I alone, will I relent?

Ticking memories, passing cries.

This world is mine, inherit flies.

And yet I find myself at peace.

This sweet surrender, my death release.

Hot as ice, frozen steam.

I walk the rungs, my fingers clean.

The flesh in which I lived so long,

It’s melted off, my unheard song.

Sing to me, my dying light.

Hollow sounds, tortured night.

Before I’d worried where you’d gone.

But here you rise before the dawn.

By: Yours Truly

This world is mine, inherit flies.

And yet I find myself at peace.

This sweet surrender, my death release.

Hot as ice, frozen steam.

I walk the rungs, my fingers clean.

The flesh in which I lived so long,

It’s melted off, my unheard song.

Sing to me, my dying light.

Hollow sounds, tortured night.

Before I’d worried where you’d gone.

But here you rise before the dawn.

By: Yours Truly

Friends Know Best

I had a friend whose mother died.

I had a friend who often lied.

I had a friend who couldn’t hide.

I had a friend who barely cried.

I knew this girl for quite some time.

She was pushy, and did hard crime.

I knew this girl had been hit hard.

She was bruised; her life was scarred.

I wished this girl would suffocate.

She had no love; she gave off hate.

I wished this girl would leave me be.

She had no mirror; she could not see.

Instead I drove down empty roads.

The air was dense; the night was cold.

I parked the car and dug in deep.

The earth was soft; it did not seep.

This person I knew had failed to hear.

Her soft white skin, those eyes so clear.

I laid her body down to rest.

I was her friend; I knew the best.

  

-By Michelle Salyga

Anonymous Wants to Know:

Dear World,

Today I found myself in the same bed as the night before, the same sheets pulled up to my chin, and the same man lying beside me. The room is a pale beige color, struck with accents of black furniture and brushed steel. To my left my phone rests beside a blue owl candlelight. In a few minutes the alarm will sound. The sheets are cream- which match the headboard- and the comforter is the duvet style. There is a masculine appearance to the bed cover, being that it is plain and white, but a hint of feminism shines through the lightly embroidered seams- which can been seen with intensified concentration.

I wake up with the same contemplations as I had fallen to sleep with beneath the fluff of down. Work. Play. Future parties. Past promises. Goals un-kept and goals just made. I’m careful not to move to abruptly. The light seeping in is bothering me. I can see blonde tufts of hair using my side-eye vision. Today is Thursday and I don’t feel like getting up.  I turn onto my side, the side that faces the wall without windows. This side of the room faces the closet, some doors closed and some open. I thrust my knee into the side of this man whom I sleep and wake with everyday. He responds and moves over exuding a faint grunt, which is barely audible. I rest my head between his armpit and chest; the faint scent of sweat and deodorant is still there. This spot is comforting to me.  He has the softest skin, much like a fresh born baby, and it feels pleasant against my cheek.

I am afraid of these moments, these comforts that have become a rhythmic piece of my life. I am afraid that one day I may not wake up to this familiar routine, this familiar touch. Each moment that transpires through time is another minute closer to an infinite number of unknown outcomes. Should we hide in these moments that give us satisfaction? Should we eliminate the possibility of loosing the rhythmic pieces of our heart? What would you do if you knew that when you died- you would never see him again? How close can you roll the dice, when the ending is already known?

-Anonymous