Strange Music

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Out in the middle of nowhere

As far from her home she could be.

It was finally getting dark.

She never traveled outside her home.

It hadn’t been so bad being outside and all alone

 But once the darkness came she became nervous.

Every new sound frighten her.

The forest was alive and calling to her.

She followed what she thought were flies singing to her,

Leading her to a place where they seem to live.

With the light from the moon now showing her what they really were.

Little fairies dancing and singing.

 

By Cristina WilCraft

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Miserable Cup of Tea

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A cup of tea, I see, I see, a lemony color, it tastes like pee.
Regrets, intents and dismay I display for this day which’ll stay away in the fray of this, Okay

Awesome ideas to think and progress, to digress and invest in the best test I can take.
Fake idealism, like the mistake of solipsism which shook me into antisocialism while I processed this impression. My intension was never to have, to understand it, to be lead into such a misery that wasn’t me, but I couldn’t be left in honesty’s sake...

 

By Seth McAllister

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A Moment of Thought

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The little things I think are thought when I think little of things.

These things aren’t original thoughts, rather, thoughts by others more original.

Opinions by geniuses, solutions by innovators, creations by the best creators.

But thought has cost that is wasted and lost.

Frostbite in the desert. Counter intuitive, but only until you realize its night.

A thought to be shared, cared for, left to linger in the air or something for us to stare towards.

A thought is a waste of energy, energy I’d gladly waste thinking.

This sinking feeling, stealing my attention, giving me an apprehension to action. It’s all my intention to understand this dissention with madness.

It’s not sadness. I think therefore I am. This madness is me, this madness is fair, this madness is made of the little things I think when I think little of things.

It’s thoughtful misery.

 

 

By Seth McAllister

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Stressing Out

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It shouldn’t be this problematic to do something so pleasing. Maybe you don’t believe that the pain is real.

I move around too much in ways that may cause us both pain to avoid making any noise.

I want to stop too quickly only because the positions your putting me in will make me scream. I’m a cowardice lover trying to keep quiet, while causing myself pain both physically and mentally.

Who knows when that’ll end? Is the romance already dead?

And I can’t help but feel so much self-doubt.

‘Oh no, that’s nonsense, stop being so negative,’ I tell myself.

There are so many random thoughts fogging up my head.

 

By Anonymous Writer

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Migraine

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Going insane from the pain stabbing my brain.

Like a hurricane hitting a windowpane.

I feel as though I’m being drained and soon I’ll be slain.

I can’t complain about this mundane headache.

What a strain.

He’s had it much worse.

So he explains what I have to do to defeat this bane.

His voice entertains as this migraine slowly wanes away and I try to regain my mind.

 

By Cristina Wilcraft

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Fourth of July

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The fireworks flashing in the sky are dazzling and bright multi-colored lights so loud.

People feeling proud to be a component of a country that doesn’t pay much thought to them.

But there’s love in the air. Couples kissing as they stare at the night sky with strangers celebrating something serious with something senseless.

Just a commotion for a couple of hours to take their mind off of true troubles.

 

By Cristina WilCraft

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Heat

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The ocean sky over the sky ocean.

I’m nervous.

Clouds above, distorted below.

My hands are warm wrapped in his.

The silhouette of seagulls dance with fish.

My cheeks are warm.

A horizon where one half of the sun is perfectly circular and the other is jagged and deformed.

Hot pink in the sky.

I feel how tall he is next to me.

Deep orange waters.

I can feel he’s nervous too.

We can’t help but smile.

We can’t help but hold on.

We can’t help but be here and now.

Shut eyes and loud ocean waves.

I’m certain the wind shushes me when it touches the water.

As long as he doesn’t let go I don’t need to open my eyes.

Warmth is the assurance.

A present sky needs no witnesses.

 

By Amber Black

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The Bus Stop

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I count to infinity when there’s nothing else to do

And I can’t stop looking at the time,

Even though I know it’s not speeding anything up.

I stand under a tree and hide from the light drizzle.

I can’t tell if it’s ending or just beginning.

The sky is gray. The bus is delayed.

The breeze comes and goes.

I wait for what feels like forever while the cars are speeding by.

Waiting twenty five minutes for a forty five minute ride home.

 

By Cristina WilCraft

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