Creative Types

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Wrapped up in my head. The four walls confining the stream of thought seem ever shrinking. The sky is falling and there’s no way to get out on time. It can’t be outrun. More static than loneliness the numb sensation of nothingness is what remains. A hopeless “I’m alone” is ritualized. Vital to the existence of a boring narcissist and his whoring artistic instinct. A maker makes and a creator creates, so introduce the faker. Intoxicated by the need-to-do is a desperate pretender. An actor the ranks of whom none have witnessed. Defender of ideas that don’t exist yet, but solitude follows the footprints. It loves creative types.

 

By Selena McCarter

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The Bar & The Car

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The ticking clock tocks
The talk ends and the car locks
Dead engine, dead time
Bad mentions, worse crimes
Arguments and fights
Augmented intents
Shit nights
Black out wasted
A tasteless, faceless, disgrace
Shattered glass
Bruises
The broken last
But remain useless
Flashbacks flash back
Buried beneath a bottle
Throttle, empty the tank
Hollow with a stare that’s blank
Tomorrow rewind, play back
Swallow the guilt that built up
Follow the hill to the top
Take a deep breath before the drop
Jump.
Roll The Credits, Please.

 

By Jeffry Crole

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Natural World

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She’s mesmerized by what’s across the window. Green foliage of all shapes and sizes. Birds jetting around trees. Squirrels racing up and down oak bark, accenting the deep brown with their beautiful fur coat of grey sprinkled with maroon all around. The blue sky darkening when clouds obstruct the sunlight. She’s in love with the window view because it’s the only beauty she can witness from within the ash walls of the prison cell.

 

By Amber Black

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Being Less Weird

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You fight yourself.

You hate yourself.

You live to love life, but failure make you frail.

Fake and fantastic is the realism of imagination…ism.

Retreating into your head instead of facing the dread of interaction based regret.

Time ticks, tocks and the tick to talk clocks in.

Hopes that nothing embarrassing will come out

Don’t think, imagine, enjoy.

Our interests don’t line up.

Abruptly I interrupt.

I’m inherently awkward and say something wrong.

I no longer wish to get along.

Life is like a toy you play with until it breaks.

This doesn’t happen when you don’t take risks and avoid all mistakes.

At least I tried.

 

By Amriel Sewa

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A Fly on the Wall

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Frozen in time a little black dot hovers over me. It’s watching me still. It sees every movement I make and hears every word I say. It was dead before I got here and will probably still be here when I leave. Unchanging and fixed. Will it ever rot away? Nailed to the ceiling it stays and down below it I wait. I’m hoping that it’ll stop spying on me. It’s looming over me, hauntingly. It’s a reflection of one of my many fears. Probably the greatest one of all. Aren’t we all afraid of it? Wondering to myself what will happen next. Will I go anywhere or will it all just go dark? It brings me dread and agony. It’s a reminder of what’s to come. It reminds me that I’m just the grim reaper’s prey and that I could be next.

 

By Lorenzo Bani

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