ÚÄ Ü Ü Ü Ü Ä¿ Ûßß ÛßÛ ß Û Û Ûßß ÜÜÛ ß ÛÛÜ Û Ü ßßÛ ÛÜÛ Û Û Û Ûß Û Û Û Û Þ ÛÜß ÛÛÛ Û ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ Û Þ ÛßÛ ÀÄ ÄÙ Ä electronic literary 'zine Ä *ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ* ù ÄÄ´ volume twelve ÃÄÄ ù *ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ* stop plagiarism - let out your soul Copyright 12/98 ú úùcompiled & edited by Twilightùú ú ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ * All literature presented herein is copyrighted by their respective authors * In memory of those who left us much too early: Brandon Robert Shaw (1976-1997), Keith Childress (1976-1998), and my grandmother, Hao Nguyen (1911-1998) þ Table of Contents þ ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù 1. A Picture Of You - Ray Heinrich 2. Amber - Stephen Lush 3. Anniversary - Twilight 4. Baby - Stephen Lush 5. Banquet - Introvert 6. Block - Twilight 7. Carousel - Twilight 8. Climax - Angel Alice 9. Construct - Stephen Lush 10. Death Spell For A Departing Lover - Kate Braverman 11. Delusion Angel - David Jewell 12. Erotifest - Sweetest Infection 13. Fightin' Irish - Stephen Lush 14. Fire - Livid 15. Fish Out Of Air, Bird Out Of Water - Drucilla B. Blood 16. Go Home - Twilight 17. Haiku 01 - Twilight 18. He Hit Her - Ray Heinrich 19. Hotel Heart - Dawn Green 20. How Far Away It Was - Dawn Green 21. Hurricane - Twilight 22. I Will Not Forget You - Sarah McLachlan 23. I'll Take My Sorrow Straight - Iris DeMent & Elmer McCall 24. Illuminata - Angel Alice 25. Just Rain - Angelstar 26. L'Arbe - Dawn Green 27. Living Circumcision, or Written In Jack In The Box On 26th And Guadalupe Early One Rainy Afternoon In Austin - Twilight 28. Lost - Twilight 29. Lovingly, He Signed - Twilight 30. Lusting For Comfort - Gavin Otukoya 31. Madness And None-So-Soft - Clotho 32. More - Stephen Lush 33. My Book - Keith Childress 34. Never There - Twilight 35. No More Summer - Twilight 36. Nonlinearunlinkage - Waves 37. Note To The Man Who Cheated On Me, Left Upon His Pillow - Twilight 38. Oh, Pleas - Stephen Lush 39. Plaster Mask - Angel Alice 40. Playmaker - Twilight 41. Rainbow Skin - Twilight 42. Raining On My Porch - Twilight 43. Ravenspell - Belasco 44. Requited Love - Twilight 45. Robots - Stephen Lush 46. Roses - Dawn Green 47. Seizons - Twilight 48. Self Portrait As A Cigarette Butt Near The Side Of The Road - Mark Eugene Stevens/MrPoi 49. SittingMan - Stephen Lush 50. Spiderman - Twilight 51. Starry Smile, Snowy Eyes - Twilight 52. Sullen Girl - Fiona Apple 53. Suspense - Stephen Lush 54. Sweet Escape - Twilight 55. System Down - Jimmy Flynn 56. Tangerine Preserves - Twilight 57. The Last Time - Shannon Downs 58. Time To Rest - Ray Heinrich 59. Touched Me In My Trance - Ryan Bloomer 60. Twilight Or Dawn? - Gopal T. Venkatesan 61. Twilight's Child - Twilight 62. Untitled - Anonymous 63. Untitled - Bloodshot 64. Untitled - Kelli Burton 65. Untitled - Stephen Lush 66. Untitled - Stephen Lush 67. Untitled - Twilight & Marcella Garcia 68. Waiting Rain - Hilan 69. When Words Shall Mean No More - KSDark 70. Where Is The Light? - Christopher Stolle 71. Wither - Stephen W. Brodie 72. Without A License - Christopher Stolle 73. Wretched - Dawn Green 74. You Again - Mark Eugene Stevens/MrPoi 75. You Are Not Alone - Stephen W. Brodie ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ A Picture Of You þ Ray Heinrich ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú old music sits across the room from me refusing to reach my ears and the hole the quiet makes becomes a picture of you þùúùþ Ray is an ex-Texas technofreak and hippie-socialist wannabe who writes poems for thrills and attention. He's always been married, loves dogs, evolution, electronics, and industrial design. He does not like republicans, but is willing to make an exception if you are truly gullible and can stand bisexuals. He owns a blue fish and loves to get comments at: . An electronic edition of his chapbook: "years of water" (Word Biscuit Press) is also available free via email. Check out his site: http://www.vais.net/~heinrich/wb/ Amber þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú dreaming dreaming away drowned in regret and pain leaving myself in place, while my mind flies free unchained by disgrace swamps sink under my feet i can see my body dead twenty too short years i rot away my fears and guilts, molt death's wishful grin, the old flames and ghosts there i am, under the swamp purged of anatomy and form bones and softened core under lilypads and cat-o-nines slowly breathing in oil and algae and the fumes come to the surface... mosquitos and crickets weave a harmonic beat and the flares that glow on the swamp's edge burn so sweet. dedicated to Wendy Ingram (1953-1996) Anniversary þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúù I last saw you a year ago today and as I sit here, I am wondering... are you thinking of me as I'm thinking of you? do you miss me like I miss you? do you remember me like I remember you? do you love me like I love you? and I wonder if we'll ever meet again, touch again, laugh together again... especially if you hate me like I learned to hate you. Baby þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú somewhere there is a girl her face stares out of a car window her smile can smite a thousand fears and she is waiting, waiting a subtle half-glance enrapture in the divine pause to hear the person next and impulse to look away dancing, dancing the sun down being more ourselves for a few moments of joy shooing the rust from our blood habeus vita, dolce vita there is that girl with blush on her face and a swing in her step with lovelong pride in her silences you can hear her singing. somewhere there is a boy standing at a bus stop in the morning dew grass he feels once it comes, it will come at last and he is waiting, waiting. Banquet þ Introvert ùúùúùúùúùúù people are talking. so much noise, and cluttered space, pressing in. (suffocate) an elaborate work of plastic. i am alone, flanked on all sides, by sweating foreign bodies. (squeezing) an unknown in darkened corners, stirs to life. see me, within me. probing though my eyes, nudging my brain. (outside looking in) and maybe you know why i'm smiling. it's the one thing that silences, lays to waste. read me, like simple words, on cheap paper, battered on the back seat, a dime store novel, an invasion, of some inner sanctum, raped and abused, left out to dry, in the sweltering heat. (blister) perched on a desert throne, directionless, and ambient. everything moves, changes, and i remain, constant, gasping, flat on my back. (squinting) popcorn. popcorn and peanuts, and a calliope's tune. the circus invades your town. painted face stare, quizzically and somehow alien, at this blistered body, laid out on the burning sand. a bauble? fleshy and unique. their large flopping shoes, and blood-stained teeth tap restlessly, hauntingly reminiscent, of a lost childhood nightmare. kick my head, and move along. kick my head. the carnival passes. (nightfall) and dirt collapses. plunging down, to chambers dark, dripping wet. glistening formations, puzzle one another, and confound me with riddles, twisted hints of origin, and little people. tiny hands, with tiny fingers. tiny minds, with large ambitions. drill inside, and deteriorate. a disembodied voice drifts in, penetrates, perpetrates, snaps me in half. þùúùþ RIP, Jae. Block þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú Closed lid, concave cube, Encased in hardened grass jelly. Boxed in, folded down upon, Vacuum sucks and screams begin. Shrieking bullets bounce off padded walls - Splice the void, scratch the skin; Ricochet, blast away, But aimed bullets only return from whence they came, Target redirected to within. Loosen the straps! Release the restraints! I want out, I want Sun - Labotomize the headlock, Take these chains, swallow the key, And come taste my sweet black sin. Carousel þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú wavy silken curls ringlets of sunshine glistening aquamarine seawater jewels speckled bright flowing dampness in my fingertips strong sleek loins i dig my knees into his sides fit my legs within the muscle tone and hold on tight for dear life. half man, half fish this aquatic beast of Neptune sculpted of wood, my dear Poseidon run, glide - take me swiftly as you swim into the night. round and round carving the niche amidst the air riptides laughing with the whimsical music the playful organ brings my delight. but my smile suddenly turns to dismay as the notes further space apart in an eerie, slow melodrama. and the air becomes still - stagnant while the clouds push away the sun and with a flick of his tail and a shove of his trident I'm sent sprawling into the sharp, jagged rocks below 'help!' I cry, to no avail my voice vanishes into empty air alone - no ear is listening - nor cares wounded and broken boned i wait for my fair prince to come back around i wait blood sheds cuts infect i cry blood dries bones mend time goes by and suddenly, the golden glow of Helios burns hot again looking up, head raised from scarred knees i see him - he's coming - at last choked with tears wobbling to a stand my love outstretches his strong arms. i shake with anxiety my lips tremble with nervousness the pounding of my heart deafens. suck in, my breath squeeze shut, my eyes i turn upon my heels my back to the trickster carousel and stumble away. Climax þ Angel Alice ùúùúùúùúùúùúù heart racing faster than lightspeed acceleration beyond comprehension guts wrenching in time to the diastole night shattering into a million mad fragments of dreams frenzy of images clawing at me, light and dark fucking feverishly music screaming, shrieking, rushing up, pushing up thrashing through me torn between hell and delirious ecstasy thrown into the very moment of me. Construct þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú She said she loved something about him he could never underknow what light here light far the brightest lights burn without heat They knew already, they thought too much it broke them down it led them she paused with the cigarette and chased it with lemonade She claimed to have two selves but he claimed to kill dragons you knew by the way they blinked something wasn't selected They had each other's company then they had nothing they had each other's respect then there was nothing nothing but the lopsided fantasy that anything could be they finished their brunch they never ate lunch He bought her a rose she bought wedding clothes they clutched, burying nails into dreams -- small but proud he cared as much as he thought she was cruel in the way she coughed He rolled into the Pacific she rocked in the Sound one couldn't predict when he'd come home but his return kisses came with metronome December came and left stiff the Saint Augustine grass he took up old games with old friends they couldn't let the dream fade but success came and the time between them left there were children there were marks on her arm And in June the heat rose by degrees there were photographs of them smiling yellow joy bending the corners. Death Spell For A Departing Lover þ Kate Braverman ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù We are good at opening dialogue. It's our specialty. That and the goodbye scene we could recite in our sleep. It's the middle that defies us, the substance, the ordinary progressions that weave events into patterns, textures, the three-dimensional. No. You cannot read my letters. You cannot take your eyes off your reflection in the mirror, your extravagant rhetoric and unshakable conviction that you will always look thirty-four, that your charm will be indelible and bankable, like an occupation. You sense I know your secret name. You fear I will say it out loud and I will. Whore. You who live from interchangeable beds, feeling passion a pressure you can't deliver, tangled in ambivalence, trying to make love while adjusting your silk tie, shining your Italian shoes spare sports jacket in the back of your broken car. Your secret name is whore. You are in love with your mother. No woman is perfect enough, as pretty as you or her. Know this, whore. I am your greatest mistake. I will hate you as the seasons turn in August heat and sudden storms as you drive from one woman to another, one slice of city view after another. You will sense this following, this uniquely fashioned arrow, this intangible wound that will not heal. I am the shadow on the corner and a certain way the neon will scratch one window after another, relentless and haunting. You will come to know it, taste it, dream it. Me, lit from the inside, whispering your whore name mixing my burned mouth with the Santana winds, becoming part of you and the landscape. In the smog, in the mist in the moonlight and jasmine digging in under your skin in a way you will never forget. Delusion Angel þ David Jewell ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Daydreamed delusion Limousine eyelash Oh baby with your pretty face Drop a tear in my wine glass Look at those big eyes See what you mean to me Sweetcakes and...milkshakes I'm a delusioned angel I'm a fantasy parade I want you to know what I think Don't want you to guess anymore You have no idea where I came from We have no idea where we're going Latched in life Like branches in the river Flowing downstream Carving the current I'll carry you You'll carry me That's how it should be Don't you know me Don't you know me by now...? Erotifest þ Sweetest Infection ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Tasting the drug that is passion I am bleeding from excessive lust Biting my lips and nails A masturbatory circus in my soul I am darkness - I am woman Fragile only when embraced tenderly But a steel frotification at night Able to withstand the deepest cuts If they force me to bleed out my fear Bloodletting - the shedding of my skin And finding inside that I am whole I have caged the evil and hate And I thrust it to you Each time our bodies clash together And I prey on your strange innocence And I swallow it whole In an alternate universe of alcoholic carnage I find you delightfully edible when raw. Fightin' Irish þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú yeah you could have had me --probably definitely maybe been my dearest guinevere to move away at the first sight of a knight with a rose i would have understood oh how i would have known to wait and wait for the pale rider settling for the lesser, gaining the attention of the better it's tragic humor that stains the dying flowers of shiftlessouls and yeah you might have taken me softly --not costly rose bed edged and milk white linen rocking chairs that complain squeakingly of being there window drapes that the breeze just wakes the scattered force field of the light on the floor i'd give all night and in the day you'd thirst for more it might feel incomplete and some things might appear to repeat but it makes you numb to stop you might have even been me-- i wouldn't doubt it you could have looked from behind my eyes and known my every disguise or taken residence behind my heart and seen every road i left well-marked well abridged books of afternoons or when the rain drifted listlessly from their cloud masters how each drop hit me and my awareness lifted to another world of english towers and stone grey glass and the smells of paper and wood in the berth of the homes that left remainders on my freshwater consciousness yeah you might know me-- but you don't respect or touch things that make life so unbland you could go to a beach and start with a grain of sand picking up my loves and memories in an Atlas-sized hand. Fire þ Livid ùúùúùúù Starting with only sparks you have grown into a beautiful flame always moving in your many wonderful directions never to dismay the eyes of your lover but to fascinate them you incinerate the undesirable you warm the irresistible you don't have my heart anymore you have my soul but the glow has gone dim it's almost gone you are gone the darkness grows cold in the absence of the warmth the warmth of your beauty and I choke I cough I gasp and I cry with all this smoke in my burning eyes. Fish Out Of Air, Bird Out Of Water þ Drucilla B. Blood ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú (I am) in a (waking) dream and I am driving I am driving I am being driven and the road is smooth smoother and the tires make no noise except for that strange in-flight resonance like how when you are driving (being driven) and the windows are closed so it is your own universe except for here the windows are open, the breeze...the weather is mild like early spring or late summer more early spring...there is a fresh quality a newness to the air that makes it seem like water and when I breathe it is more like drinking never drowning like i am in water my element water i am swimming (being driven) and all around me blurs i am focusing on everything at once on the whole picture so that PARTS of the picture, the elements that make up the picture cease to exist. I am dreaming (being driven) in a waking dream and there is all around me sound and action but all within is silent and still, reflective and warm over all warm. I am curled in the front seat, dreaming of being driven I am the passenger I am curled in the front seat my head is out the window my hand is playing with the air pressure out of the window floating in the air beating against my hand my eyes do not focus, they are closed the wind closes my eyes but still I see my hand being floating in the wind whipping my hair against my face drinking. I am being driven in my dream, the driver is dark and silent and he knows all of my thoughts. I know he knows even though he says nothing just as he knows my thoughts even in my silence. He is driving with unblinking eyes. There is a raven and it flies between the telephone wires and then lands folding feet under body clutching the thin wire in claw then taking off again still unblinking and the raven, any bird, to take off it must first throw itself into the air like a kind of trust - in order to fly it must jump up and off and for those brief seconds it is more like falling than flying and then it soars but first it must jump that one small jump tucking feet under and spreading black wings glinting silver and the driver still does not blink and still my hand out of the window dreaming floating and both of us are flying driving (being driven). Because there is no difference, really, between fish and bird...bird swims air as fish flies water and floats and bellies and wings...fins are just wings are merely fins to the other and fluid motion IS flight. So we watch, grounded. I am flying, my hand supported on all sides by air and yet forcing air upwards, down and still somehow in control of the motion...fluidity. Graceful and upwards my eyes I am watching there are clouds they are split between where there is blue and I can see things, floating. And all is mystery. "Can you drive me there" why do I have to ask...the driving is a motion of itself floating on rubber floating on asphalt and never really touching what would real contact FEEL like because really things never touch for fear of burrowing deeper than surface and creating...what? A hole where there used to be...nothing. Nothing like this time a sign and forward mask my presence there is an understanding that comes from the touch the hole and yet it is the lack of understanding that prevents contact...if understanding comes from contact and contact comes from understanding, where do we begin...or end. I see now why people intoxicate themselves - there is a fear of other humans which prevents communication, prevents contact...intoxication takes this fear away somehow and people make contact only once the sober moment comes we still do not know where to begin like a fish out of air a bird out of water... And sometimes it even feels like flying walking. Dreaming I am in some kind of mood and the everything that is around me is buzzing and at this moment truly I am life I am alive and I am flying because really it is all I know, to live. And to dream creates a separate reality like wishing and seeing and then KNOWING why this is always so. Two days ago, yesterday, then today and I am in this car. I close the window and everything yawns. I prop my head upon my hand and watch blurred trees become each other and blend with dizzy grass and air. I breathe now don't drink - the one who is driving is still silent and I watch him his brow furrowed and it is more than the road. Somehow I love him and I know all will come to be right and I know all will come to an end before it comes to be right but do not care just watch. And sometimes the sun touches his face, eyes and he squints and I am dreaming this, squinting, struggling to see more. There is a quiet place where the driving stops. I am no longer driven. Lay down a blanket on a field so wide there is nothing but field upon field stretching mile after sand-dune-walking mile and this is where I am nothing to keep me down to hold me there I float I weep for the sensation inside I am air - no, inside I am water, I am water floating on air and this is boundless. There is this field and I (we) are alone together. There is something around us all of the time that pulls us together (in my dream this person, this bond exists) and keeps us apart. It is beyond love. It is beyond marriage. It is beyond sanctity. And it feels like floating... Go Home þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú just another night of being alone just another night with only my mind to keep me company the darker half my worst enemy surpressed for so long threatening to come out to come back again and haunt my sanity go back go back go back from whence you came within the latching folds lock back up keep the key i don't want you here again unwelcome guest intruder go back before i sic the dog back on you again before you plague me with your irrational point of view with your deadly sinister plans schemer, disbeliever drown drown drown let the waves crash over you force the ice to form in layers so thick turn the blue to dark green go back go back let the good half take back over again to whisper its heavenly tunes into my ears again i don't need your company or mixed company it's time to leave he's coming back again so girl there's the door pack your bags and leave. Haiku 01 þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú Erasing your ghost Chalk dust drifting to the floor I blow you away He Hit Her þ Ray Heinrich ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú he hit her and watched the bruises take weeks to turn to yellow he took his fist and punched her breast as hard as he could and watched her face as she fell to the floor and someday he'll be honest enough to say it was me Hotel Heart þ Dawn Green ùúùúùúùúùúùú people pass through your hotel heart on their way to something better or perhaps just needing a place to stay for the night your valve doors are always open never closing for even the ruffiest ruffian some stay in the lover's suite with magic sprinkled everywhere some stay in single rooms with twin sized beds taking as little as they've given stealing pieces of the mystique towels, shampoo, bar soap everything not bolted down revolving doors makes the getaway painless and quick but the hotel's getting run down the bellboys have all resigned the maids don't clean anymore the west wing is closed off and the visitors are getting less remodeling is the next stage of development How Far Away It Was þ Ray Heinrich ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù i'm standing over my father in the hospital he's stopped breathing i'm holding his neck and shoulder and i've been rubbing them because he always liked that and it's the best i can do while i'm waiting for him to die waiting for his next breath and it comes and another and then i'm waiting for his next breath again and i count one thousand and one one thousand and two one thousand and three like he taught me standing in our garage watching a thunderstorm on the gulf coast of texas sometime when i was maybe six he taught me to count between the lightning flash and the thunder taught me to figure out how far away it was Hurricane þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú shrieking winds howling in my stomach puncturing holes rips in my pierced bag. shrinking and swelling aching, breaking gasping for air then being blown away. bent over, doubled cramps that bring tears sucking in, holding in because they won't escape. help me i'm twisting save me i'm drowning catch me i'm falling eyes pop out i'm dizzy, i'm lost dark curtains drop i'm blind, i can't see legs give way i'm stumbling, i can't walk Silence. The calm has come. The eye swirls leerily overhead. Oh please brace me - It's coming back again. I Will Not Forget You þ Sarah McLachlan ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù I remember the nights I watched as you lay sleeping Your body gripped in some faraway dream Well I was so scared and so in love then And so lost in all of you that I had seen but no one ever talked in the darkness no voice ever added fuel to the fire no light ever shone in the doorway deep in the hollow of earthly desires but if in that dream there was brightness if in some memory some sort of sign and flesh be revived in the shadows blessed our bodies would be so entwined and I will, oh I will not forget you, Nor will I ever let you go. I remember how you left in the morning at daybreak So silent you stole from my bed To go back to the one who possesses your soul And I back to the life that I dread so I ran like the wind to the water 'please don't leave me again' I cried and I threw bitter tears at the ocean but all that came back was the tide... -I will not forget you. I'll Take My Sorrow Straight þ Iris DeMent & Elmer McCall ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú We both know the reason why you've called So stop wastin' time tryin' to soften up my fall I know you wanna sweeten up the taste But if you don't mind, I'll just take my sorrow straight You almost make it seem like somethin' nice The way you take your bad news and you pour it over ice That's a kindness I don't appreciate 'Cause I like to take my sorrow straight I wouldn't say that I'm any stronger than the rest But no matter what you say It ain't gonna hurt me any less 'Cause in the end, there is really no escape So, I go on and I just take my sorrow straight Illuminata þ Angel Alice ùúùúùúùúùúùúù Firefly, firefly, I see you in the night. I follow you in wonder as you burn your tiny light. When will I be like you? When will I glow bright? When will I illuminate the darkness of the night? Share with my your secret, I promise not to tell, For just one night of splendor, I'd endure the hottest hell. Firefly, take me with you in your radiance through this dark, Firefly, teach me how to shine, for I am just a spark. Just Rain þ Angelstar ùúùúùúùúùúù When the rains did come They were emotionless Not the bright rain of a season long awaited Not the warm rain of a desperately needed cleansing No torrential downpour of a storm raging in chaos Not the cold, cold rain of despair Not the urging rains of conviction Not the sad, bitter rain of a lost lover just rain L'Arbe þ Dawn Green ùúùúùúùúùúùú it's time to tear that tree down. so many memories it has. our names carved in a special place when we were young. laughing times, secretly in love. it's time to tear that tree down. you know the one. take down the branch where we had our first kiss so that my heart does not break again. it's time to tear that tree down. so many times we'd watch the sun go to sleep, and the stars play, entwined among themselves, as my hand held fast to yours. we'd tell each other our fears, and realize we weren't alone anymore. it's time to tear that tree down. its bark is weak, its leaves long since decayed. i don't think i could look out this old window without seeing where you would wait for me, where you still wait for me, beneath the tree. i swear i won't be long. Living Circumcision, or Written In Jack In The Box On 26th And Guadalupe Early One Rainy Afternoon In Austin þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú speared steel palms feet crossed over hanging solely by wits and sheer willpower. the cries of the hurt the sick - the wounded unmercifully pounds in the ears lacerates the brain and ruptures the eardrums. no heaven to cry to only hell's flames frolicking at the foot only gasping wheezes part the chapped split lips as the lungs constrict shoved to collapse. but only their moaning - THEIR cries bring tears gushing waterfalls drenching the fire below. raising up my bowed head i scream at the raging sky pulling myself up to only be weighed down more and more by each begging wail until my hand's holes stretch into bones and the wood supports my back and pegs become shoes upon my feet. Oh, my sweet darlings Oh, my lovely children I will carry your burdens I will pack them upon my back I will be your father sister, brother, lover let me protect you from my fate. Oh, my beautiful loved ones pull the skin with clenched lips rip it off with your teeth I will remain erect for you I will be your living circumcision. Lost þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú speed into the majestic indigo, dark amethyst clouds racing above, smelling the deep, wet stench - of rain in the air - as notes blare, pounding my ears and street lights blur into streaks, illuminating the highway. long straight road, leading to nowhere, no place in particular, only the wind, tune, dampness - rushing through my strands, flapping in the pitch. inhale smoke for a second - topped with a coating of refrigerated cool, top down, spirits spurting forth; pound meaty thoughts like cubes and watch them vanish out of sight, out of the blue. stars reach to splatter kisses upon my tender, exposed neck - I laugh, then, to fool myself. pierce soapy iridescent swirling bubbles out of which childhood dreams are made; stare at the pictures stare at the stone time after time, the rushing disillusion, the contortion in the funhouse mirrors; hazy wisps must separate permeate swallow the hook and the bait folded upon it - take hold of the wheel, stop running away pick the path from a fork in the road; lead yourself up to heaven or crash. Lovingly, He Signed þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Lovingly, he signed and gave me this new hope of never again being another masturbatory toy. Lovingly, he signed accompanied by a kiss as he tried to be more human by slowing down his thrusts. Lovingly, he signed while expressing glad affection and seemed to make an effort to satisfy my emotions. Lovingly, he signed then laughed and went to sleep used just for his purposes pretending to meet my needs. Lovingly, he signed as I lay wide awake ripping his note in disappointment I tiptoed out the door - Forcing me to not feel a thing Forcing me once more. Lusting For Comfort þ Gavin Otukoya ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù My search for love has took me far and wide To the shadowy pits of darkness, to the guiding light from the angels Until I thought at last I found my loved one But her heart wasn't set on me So I look to Moon now as my Maiden of Love For she never leaves me alone at night Madness And None-So-Soft þ Clotho ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú I'm in drastic need of numbing because that sinking feeling's coming that I'm starting to decay... I've tried that ferris wheel, that pain was just too real - Here comes my limousine... Now it makes no sense to be upset, I've got nothing you want and that's all you'll get It's all quite simple really... In the end - scrape me off your trip. I want nothing...you want nothing... I'm in trouble that you won't believe because everyone's after me and I don't know who... I'm in that state of mind, you know, that morbid kind... Here comes my private plane, and my pilot's tumor does cocaine... More þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú there cannot and never will be enough to go around My Book þ Keith Childress ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúú stiffening ache courses through me over I turn, only to discover yet another new pain the pain slowly ceases and reality seeps in rays of light shining through bringing day once again i awake events yet to be run through my head the fire in my head burning low slowly rises to an inferno thinking and reasoning intercede i lift myself from my knees slowly i become more aware drawing in my surroundings floods of thoughts almost overcome me images of people a book of minds it's an old book one that I've read It's not yet finished writing this book is a daily thing every day a page or more encrypted in a code of thoughts only a few can read the weight presses on me I carry it still it being only a light burden but eventually I fear its weight will overcome me and so I must rest Rest is not an option I must keep writing putting down my pen closing my mind blocking these thoughts and refusing to see would be like a wall blinding me þùúùþ RIP, Keith. Never There (dedicated to Brandon Robert Shaw, 1976-1997) þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù in the short time that i knew you you were taken for granted i was never there just another friendly face just another laugh another song to lift the air didn't notice just how much you brightened up the day and until too late i did not know how much you were in pain how you walked the streets at night alone with your pockets in hand if i could do it all again i promise i'd do you right i'd be there under the streetlamp beside you at the movies helping you in life if i could do it all again i'd know more about you than you did of me but now i've learned my lesson hard since you've been taken away everything happens for a reason maybe this is to show me force me to pay attention to all of the details friends are hard to come by no matter of which degree and now your service is going on right now as i cry don't feel right attending too much guilt to dry these eyes can't face that lonely coffin with only you inside and for the very last time i fail you once again i'm not there to mourn you i'm not there to hold your hand No More Summer þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú flee into the corner back against the bed furious steps pound in ears closer and closer racing toward me his arm pulls back and i delve into my shell to await the incoming slap. blackness blurred fall face first upon the mattress dazed for a moment i attempt rebalance i wobble to a stand but why? to be hit down again. 'hello,' i greet once more the flowered pillow case the next time pollinated with red; lose myself in the whirlwind face into the storm trying to keep the balance and hold the roots - my tiny feet - beneath the soul, into the ground. losing count of the blows and feeling the purple pummeling my fragile face its persistent knocking never ceasing knuckling its cold how-do-you-do upon the staining door. hear the lightning see the thunder which then brings the rain bleeding down my cheeks, hot, wet, and sticky - watered-down sangria falling down in and splattering the sheets. i realized then that i had seen the last summer of my life already wishing for yesterday but no way back in sight. i had fallen down the hole but clung dearly to the rocks i had been relentlessly struck down but i was strong enough even then... for only nine years old, the only thing i knew to do was to get right back up and take the next punch even if it were... to just fall down again. Nonlinearunlinkage þ Waves ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú and i remember, we all used to go over to her house and jimmy would laugh and point and the twins would have us all going in circles. o' course mama would call us all in for dinner around then. times was when we all used to sit around sometimes and just look at the clouds in the day and we could see shapes in 'em and everybody's shape was thier own one time you said that cloud is a chicken and to me it looked like a rabbit times was i want to get me a digital watch that just blinks the word "NOW" i know. Note To The Man Who Cheated On Me, Left Upon His Pillow þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù i came... i laughed. i saw... i cried. i went. i died... inside. Goodbye. Oh, Pleas þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú ure in [groves{ripe}] where the breadwinners fight ^swordsmen^ and the /shadows/ and the \stars\ marry for the p r i c e Don't give in to the nothings Love the now for what it is -consequence--never agains- #include "forgotten" No{yes}/*infinite loop*/ @betrayer of hope !! LostLand selfish longings {$LUST} ..princess of the :adv.-n.-adv.: Little precious Hazy Logic -=A_war_eness=... --- ... [calligraphy of the iron streaks of the {} 1010~110~1100000::10111101111 < dedicated to flood inspired by shay > Plaster Mask þ Angel Alice ùúùúùúùúùúùúù years, it's been, since i've seen the light, she's covered me a long, long time, claiming friendship, swearing love, stealing fire, she may be pretty, but she's a liar, she has no heart, she's only a plaster mask painted gold inlaid with gemstones, glittering and shining in the light, everyone loves her, she's such a sweetpea, but no one looks at me, i live in her shadow, invisible. i see you, quietly staring, silent and pensive, watching her, seeing the plaster beneath the flaking gold, gray, inhuman, and cold, but you don't see through her, to me. please, help me tear her off, shatter her, i can't do it, my muscles have atrophied, they don't respond to me anymore, they *like* the whore, they think she's sweet as sugar, but she's poison, deadlier than sin, she's trying to drown me, she's getting greedy, she wants my body, she's hungry. Playmaker þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú The contempt never ceases always resurfacing spreading its disease just another prisoner just another bed bound to the headboard tied up to the posts just another pawn in a user's game to play when will the tables turn when will I be the one who rolls the dice Growing tired of sleeping on the black squares of this checkerboard Can't surpress the buildup Can't restrain the rage just another means to a selfish end of masculinity, of sin - and raw animality. Sweet words you whisper just to satisfy your desire I block them out I resist emotion - Glance away from searching eyes I feel nothing. But yet I can't escpae losing this twisted game Being the one who's played instead of the one who plays. Rainbow Skin þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùú sallow, sunken pits dented hollow holes reflect bruised violet and evergreen hints of ochre in the light press them and find fleshy softness push upon them and they'll give way sucking probing fingers into a black void of squish slip-sliding into mush slurp into slush. Raining On My Porch þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù The stars are twinkling The moon is out Light breezes caress the rustling palms And it's raining on my porch. The sky is shining garnet Wispy clouds race by Salty waves lap softly onto the sand As young lovers consummate their passion, entwined upon the beach. Whales sing their happy melodies Seagulls soar into the night Blurred red lights blink softly beyond the pier And the dolphins somersault swiftly in delight. Moonlight shimmers upon the water A tranquil hush falls lightly down onto the dunes But lightning strikes... And it's raining on my porch. Ravenspell þ Belasco ùúùúùúùúùú In her eyes of endless night, Reflections there of candlelight. Into her arms I gladly fell As she cast her ravens' spell. Her eyes to mine, the spell was cast- I pray'd the gods this night to last. In shadows deep, I found her lips: And feather's touch of fingertips. Then night took wing, becoming day: How could I tear myself away? As I watched her standing there, The falling stars caressed her hair. Now ebon dreams bestir my sleep With firey mem'ries burning deep. If truth be known, she binds me still- Her ravens' spell, it always will. Requited Love þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúù No well-wishing card from you on my birthday, no Happy New Year's kisses. No hugs on Valentine's, no St. Patrick's Day pinches. No colorful eggs on Easter Sunday, no Memorial Day flags. No fragrant flowers on Mother's Day, no Father's Day ties, gift-wrapped. No fireworks on the Fourth of July, no Halloween treats nor tricks. No turkey on Thanksgiving, no sentimental Christmas gifts. No more tears left on your death day, Only my abandoned, cold emptiness. Robots þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú seeing with their electronik eyes photographing quiet stones in time processing data - gigo compactors helixes and matrices of punch-card thoughts 10 hello ; print a flashing endless gosub cases of decision, linefeeds and operands constants of x and y z moves left-handed into zenith's variable compiling the answer, scripting the question in a language only they can understand 999 RETURN Roses þ Dawn Green ùúùúùúùúùúùú tickling ropes of the noose, tightening around my neck. it kisses my throat, makes passionate love to me. it's the only thing that matters this moment. kick the chair from under me, straddling the air, the noose plays at my neck, nibbling, biting, tearing, 'til i am overjoyed and hanging up there. Seizons þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú in the whipping whirlwind - in the blur of flying debris, reach out, dare a touch - the autumn leaves drop in open palms: nervous synapse *spark recognition* *ignite bonfire* that fumes toxic... and blackens... tracking burn scars, leaving only smoke and must. fingers clench... white knuckles pulse purple, bones crack, and the leaf withers... crumbling finely into a powdery dust. but then spring smiles again and sucks away the winds, catches Nebulous by the tongue. leaves sprout anew, <> budding, blooming...forgetting, ignoring the increased stillness. temporary regrowth...bliss, until only a vacuum remains - and the leaves dry up in a blaze of fiery combustion, crying out in flaming colors ...falling, falling, Falling... Autumn's tears are scattered on the dry cement and then He blows again... Self Portrait As A Cigarette Butt Near The Side Of The Road þ Mark Eugene Stevens/MrPoi ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Dripping sticky tales of discarded abuse and stolen breath the pulpy shell mops mildewed earth and awaits the final drag. SittingMan þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú creeping man with his birds on a park in a city in the world his story is true, his life is common like the rags he clutches but he still loves what little the day brings him as those with briefcases and heels stride past not unlike the shadows in the sun Spiderman (dedicated to "Lance") þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Silky soft cotton candy strands wrap around, dewdrops glittering Sparkly bluish-white, Swaying slightly in the breeze like a line of clothes out to dry, While radiating sunshine And pulling into the light. Daring to touch, one tiny pinprick - I become entangled. Paralyzing bite, venomous fangs - I am entranced. * h y p n o t i z e d * Hear the tiny squeak from behind the glassy wall, -animate behind the frozen face- hunched behind the locked closet door, I plead: "Please, oh please, set me free..." -mouth not moving, not a twitch- "I wish to love you, but oh god - do you ever scare me." Too dazed, unfocused, Blurring whorls, funhouse mirrors, But within your wrapped protection, my pseudo-shell, Secure and safe, I'm buried here with you. You swirl me in your entropic whirlpool, but head over water, above the currents, Blowing air into my mouth to help me breathe. Twist up the cobwebs in our shared spindle Catch me in your sticky glue and take my hand -we'll hold our breaths- -let's tandem jump- Come, why not parachute to freedom ...with me? Starry Smile, Snowy Eyes þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú starry smile snowy eyes cold white fluffs drifting carving icy inlets freezing all greenery banking upon the sides. pleasing lips burning ears searing crimson oozing dripping into canals scarring all tissue numbed by anesthetic fear. comforting hands tender skin royal violet inflicting rupturing tiny passageways hiding metal hooks deep within the woolen mitten. starry smile ...stared at snowy eyes ...ignored mistook the rocking of the boat for the passion of the storm. Sullen Girl þ Fiona Apple ùúùúùúùúùúùúù Days like this, I don't know what to do with myself All day - and all night I wander the halls along the walls and under my breath I say to myself I need fuel - to take flight - And there's too much going on But it's calm under the wves, in the blue of my oblivion Under the waves in the blue of my oblivion Is that why they call me a sullen girl - sullen girl They don't know I used to sail the deep and tranquil sea But he washed me [a]shore and he took my pearl - And left an empty shell of me And there's too much going on But it's calm under the waves, in the blue of my oblivion Under the waves in the blue of my oblivion Under the waves in the blue of my oblivion It's calm under the waves in the blue of my oblivion Suspense þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú The monster is coming! My heart is beating, My footfalls are squeaking, And I look around the corners. Look inside closets, Gaze into shadows, Slink between hallways, Run into the orchards. And I hear the "thud thuds," Of a demon of green blood, Who wants to eat my brain, I worry, worry away. Running from the creature, I'm in a class-B double feature, I pinch and never wake, Round the wall edge, and Sweet Escape þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùú step upon the hard, grey squares (the gears within the industry); try to balance as they spin and slip between the cracks. get lost within the grooves - the plunging, piercing cold metal - pulverizing this nubile flesh *grinding* and *smashing* as i'm spread thinly from one interlocking piece to another. crimson trickles down the blood wheel; wearing the mark of each peg's branding tarnish, i lose myself. i'm blinded. slowly, i am skinned. after tossing about, i catch a glimpse of light - something new in some clearing for those who have escaped... instead of smelling the cold winter of the righthand side of the periodic table, the warm, floral scent of summer rises into my bloodied nose - providing a soothing effect, pulling me in gently, and rubbing on the healing salve that seeps into my core and makes me new again. i learn to balance on those gears and now i even find it fun; but even so - amidst the tungsten and titanium, the steel and the selenium, i found something sweeter. and though tastes swerve to acidic... i'd much prefer the sugary sanctuary that i call home. System Down þ Jimmy Flynn ùúùúùúùúùúùúù We are of a lost generation. Happy only in the company of others who are lost and lonely, searching for the self not found, we wallow within each other and things. For we really never taste; all has been tasted by those before us, then diluted and presented as gifts to us. A meager reward for their supposed future. Pushed in and eager, time lies. Now their flags and words hold us in, unpatriotic and sick. Alas, I have found it better to be free than to fight for freedom. For in what war would you fight when you are defending tyrants and liars? Thieves, all of them are. Of my life, my happiness, and now I feel my spirit being crushed by their ignorant reign. My fellow soulmates, my brethren are growing tired along side me as only they can, for their will has been tapped and enslaved just as mine. When we gather, no, wait - rather, I should say when we are permitted to gather, we feed on each other. A Dionysian celebration of the spirit they try to contain. A revival of self and of self-indulgence, a purification, a bonding of the lost generation, shameless to admit to being just that. 28 JUN, 95 Keesler AFB Mississippi Tangerine Preserves þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù I yearn to return to the alternate reality of my past so far away on that plane gone by so fast. Though the sun did not always shine I was always basked in warmth overlooking the ocean I melded with the earth. Two bluest moons rose every night instead of the just one white and the wispy clouds smelled faintly of strawberries amidst the strands of light. They skipped through a sky that was smooth, yet slightly speckled orange swirl Dreamsicle tangerine cream popsicles. The hills? They were soft... and jiggly like Jell-o black cherry flavored dessert slippery dark red dirt. Despite the natural disasters I somehow always felt quite safe but then came the intruders and weeded out the place. Now, so much time has transpired and I wonder what it's like if it's how it used to be or black, dark, and void of light. But I guess I'll have to stay here in the plane of today preserving those memories of the past while making my new surreality. The Last Time þ Shannon Downs ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Madness. I always believed it was this thing - this monster which crept up slowly, silently, attacking from behind, leaving one no recourse but to run naked and screaming through the streets. Panting, legs moving slower, slower as fatigue sets in, eyes wide, mouth wet with spit. Truly insane in appearance. And all the people would glance your way while passing, quickening their step and shaking their heads in pity. "Such a shame," they mutter beneath their breaths like a mantra, a prayer to ward off that which offends and frightens them. Functional madness. I could hide it, keep it under wraps. I consoled myself with the belief that I possessed a special sensitivity to the world around me. Sounds, smells, tastes, expressions, hits, words, pain, joy. I am like a sieve as it all pours through my being, each grain passing through - so slowly. My mind, working overtime, tries to understand, figure it all out, processing this jumble of stimuli. I am still while this happens because I am so tired. My mind silently pleads for respite. Silently - until the wine ceases numbing, the smoke stops easing my thoughts, the drugs the doctors give me leave me shivering like a child on the floor, vomiting and gasping for air. Then I begin to scream. Begging without shame, without pride to anyone who will listen, "Let me off this terrible ride!" Without shame. Without pride. Without hope. No one is there. The next morning, I feel fine. "Perhaps we should go out for breakfast," I say to him, the boyfriend. "Let's go get a really good cup of Colombian coffee, shall we?" Mmmm. My spirits are up. So off we'd go. And I chatter, chatter, chatter about this and that and the other. Chatter, chatter. And he listens, quietly, as if anything I say really means anything. As if it makes any sense at all. As if last night did not happen, me on the floor in a fetal position, choking, rubbing my head and chanting over and over and over, "It'll be O.K., Shannon. You'll be O.K. It'll pass. It always passes." Maybe he wasn't listening at all. This thought stops me. My mind freezes with the thought, focusing in tight, like the lens of a camera. I look at him suspiciously. No, I don't think he is listening. I should test him. Ah, but what does it matter? What is love anyway? It too will fade away and pass, then return again in another form. Around and around, up and down. It all passes through me. Why not him as well? Ow. My head hurts. Hadn't noticed before, but pain in one form or another is a constant presence. Slight pressure all around my cranium, thick fingers squeezing uncomfortably. And with my drug level tolerance, hah! Excedrin? Motrin? Nothing. Tylenol...oh! But be careful of Tylenol. I heard that mixed with alcohol it can cause liver failure and I must have my drink. "No Tylenol," I remind myself. Am I...do you think...well could I have a problem with alcohol? NO! I drink because I appreciate wine, the tastes, the tannins, the body and aroma....Fuck this. I don't need to justify myself to anyone. Who is this sitting beside me? You're not even listening. Damn this headache! Suddenly I'm not feeling well. Not feeling well. Years have passed like moments. And in many of them, I have not felt...well. "Blah, blah," I say to my deaf, mute passing love interest as he drives me towards home. His face is tense. He's wound up tight. Nervous. Perhaps I should lay down when I get there. My bed. My wonderful, warm bed. But, God! It's only 10:30 in the morning and I haven't done anything all day! I haven't written a thing, completed nothing...Jesus! I have so much to do! God, I forgot to call my sister, and the letter wasn't sent to the loan company, and my agent...I'm so lazy. What a waste, why even try. Home again. Damn this headache! Damn! The house feels small, cramped, like a cell. I can't fill my lungs with air. The fingers tighten. It takes a while, you know. I've never tried to time it or anything. A stopwatch is the last thing I can focus on when it begins. But there are triggers, pulled from the shadows of the dark, leaving behind a deafening echo of disaster. And she's off! The feeling of doom is impending. I begin to spiral, caught in a whirlpool - a draining sink. Going down, down into the slimy, dark and cold piping, down, down. I can not grasp for anyone or anything because my hands are tied, you see. I can't move them. My tongue is mute. The shaking begins. "Where is he? The boyfriend? I must look such a mess, such a spectacle. Just like my mother..." Pat, pat. I gently begin to rock myself and rub my head, murmuring. "It's O.K., Shannon. It will pass." I can't breathe. "Breathe! B-R-E-A-T-H-E!" I am twelve again, a desperate child in need. Where is he? Somebody help me! I want this to stop. Die. "I don't want to die. I just want out of this body!" Is he here? Is he talking to me? I am deaf. Silence. It is passing. Passing. My breathing slows. Oh, but it will come again. And again and again and again.... The void begins seeping through me, black as ink. No hope. No will. I think of sleeping forever. I think of death. I think of God. Where have you gone? Will you take me into your arms, if you exist? Will you hold me and carry me away from all of this? Surely a just God would understand, if there is a God. Death. Even if there were nothing, that would be divine. Simply to cease to exist. Ah, such thoughts cradle me with warmth - I already know how I will do it. Not like before. Not enough pills. I would do it in the garage, if I had a garage. Never with a gun and jumping from a high place? Yick! No, this time with the right pills and a good open vein. This scares me. I am afraid of the pain. I inventory the pills in my house. One bottle of Darvocet, half a bottle hydrocodone, expired. It will do. Motrin, Klonapin and a bottle of wine. I take the blade from the tip of the exacto knife - careful - in the red tool box and carry it gingerly to the bathroom. It sounds a light chime as I lie it down on the porcelain sink. It glistens, catches my eye - my fancy. This should do it. I am not afraid of death but there is something in me that still wills to live. It is a small, flickering light. I can hardly see it now, even though I'm squinting hard. It no longer provides me any comfort. Escape. I am prideful in my lack of fear of death. I know that there are those in the world who suffer greater indignities than my own and yet they persevere. But I am weak. Humanities sieve, you see. I feel all their pain. I am mad. I look into my bathroom mirror and my image is clouded, as if I am almost invisible, ghost like. I begin to cry, though I don't know why. I place a pill in my mouth and swallow. Then another and another and another. I cry harder. "Please let there be a just God! Forgive me! Understand." No answer. I swallow the wine. Then another pill and another....holding back the urge to vomit. I pick up the blade, shaking so violently. Look at my hands! The light grows dim, then dark. I am in a car going very fast. The boyfriend is beside me. He is saying something, but I can't make out the words. All goes black. I am in a beautiful golden field, floating. So pretty. So warm, then CRASH! I feel my body convulse and shake. Cold steel! My back is so cold. I'm so cold. "Where am I?" I scream. I'm choking. Something is in my throat. I feel the rustle of cloth and air around me, rushing past. Words, bright lights, so cold. Hospital. "You Fuckers! NOOOOO! This is my life! MY body! You have no right! No right!" A sharp pain in my arm and all is black again. Then someone gently touches me. Where on my body I cannot discern. Just the faint impression of being nudged. I open my eyes. Above me stands a fair skinned man with the most beautiful green eyes. I love his eyes. I allow myself to fall into them, like diving into a cool, smooth pool. "Shannon? You truly intended to kill yourself, didn't you? To die?" "Yes," I answer meekly. "Because I am mad." He scribbles something on a pad of paper he carries with him, then looks up and smiles. "We're going to take you somewhere where you can get help, O.K.?" I wonder who "we" is and nod weakly. Everything is sore, like I've been squeezed through a rusty metal tube. The man with the beautiful green eyes disappears, leaving me cold and shaking. I'm so tired. Weary, really, and I close my eyes and fall into a deep, dreamless, black sleep. The kind of sleep I love so dearly that I would give my life for it. I fell into that blissful slumber a mad woman and awoke...diagnosed. "Bi-polar disorder," the psychiatrist says, handing me sheets of asbestos yellow paper. "Manic-depressive, you've heard of it?" I nod. Well, what should I think of that? What can I say? I take the papers and lay them limply in my lap. I listen. Madness. I now understand with perfect clarity that it is not a monster nor that frightening, indefinable bump in the night. It has a name, my recent diagnosis. It never crept up from behind me but from inside me, for it is a part of me. Of who I am. I am Shannon Downs and I am bipolar. Bipolar. "This will be the last time," I think resolutely. I have named the madness. And I will tame it. I want to live. I feel the rush of the forced breeze from a bellow stoking a fire inside my mind. It is warm. It comforts me. þùúùþ Shannon Downs, 28, lives in Los Angeles and works as an independent script writer and television writer for such shows as "Murder One", Stephen Bochco Prods. She has an M.A. in Film from Columbia, Chicago, and B.A.'s in Philosophy and Political Science from Rockhurst College. She also studied a year in Rome, Italy, through Loyola University. She has been crazy since adolescence but her weirdness was always attributed to her "artistic disposition." She says she could have used some help a little sooner before things got way out of control, but she's diagnosed, on meds, and doing fine. Time To Rest þ Ray Heinrich ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú the twilight your song and slow the night starts like the day slow and it is time to rest no need watching anymore the passing day its fingers pick your face away and there is no need to pretend it's better to forget as this night covers the day as the next will cover it and the rhythm of your song in the twilight listening to your song against the bank and the river silver Touched Me In My Trance þ Ryan Bloomer ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù dark dusk in the corner of my unseen hallucination like a bleak memory that haunts cut at the strings of time with a dull thought take heed as the rust falls blight the wounds that you inflict with your silent grin in the corner of my unseen hallucination Twilight Or Dawn? þ Gopal T. Venkatesan ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù 'Neath the awning of your brow, two dark sapphires Sparkling embers that can light a million fires Each look, an arrow, that pierces my heart so Shot from the bow, formed by the arc of your brow. Braided raven black hair, decked with jasmine flowers Lissom neck, festooned with pearls that twinkle like stars You are sinuous as a liana, yet graceful as a swan Oh, lovely one! You must be the reason I was born. Who are you? I wonder, Oh, beautiful one! Face soft as the moon, yet fiery as the sun. A blossom of the sky, spawned by the eternal cosmic ferment? Where do you come from? I wonder, Oh, lotus lips! Sinewy grace, in the delicate sway of your hips. From the inner sanctum of the netherworld of serpents? Basking in the tender glow of the limpid moonlight I listen to the still drone of time past midnight Smitten by your image, I lie awake thro' the night 'Til reality cuts by the sword of the morning light. My love is ripe beyond bearing, nights have passed, When I profess my love in person, this burden I will cast, My heart is frantic with haste and races like a steed A plowman with a single ox, in land all wet and ready for seed. Tonight I will wait at the peak, from midnight 'til dawn Where the white waters that crash far below are born Near the mountain caves where herds of elk sleep Beside the fragrant lily-pond, so dark and deep. The night is aging, do I wait in vain? Like the parched desert sands that thirst for rain Godspeed, my love, come hither to me 'Cause Venus has risen and Saturn sleeps. Once, at the hoot of an owl, or the leap of a deer My poor little restless heart, would melt in fear But in the dark of this night, nothing can stop its wandering On the long serpentine mountain-ways of your coming. Twilight's Child þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú tip tip tiptoe in a little jig on hot, red coals i dance upon the stars; flames lick at calloused heels, and tilting my head back - inhaling the gaseous fumes, i french-kiss the luminous night. and i sing at the top of my lungs: 'Mr. Moon, come out and play with me tonight!' i wish i may, i wish i might, lift up my dress i want more blue, i want more light. blow silver dust into my eyes blind me with thy radiance weave dirty tricks into my tangled tress feed me strength, fuel my might. i love you, oh i need you, birth me as your spawn, your daughter mix me into thy sparkling drink, pound and strike me with your passion - *i'll spill your heavenly seed* and i'll weep upon the starlit skies eternally... and be your one and only true twilight. Untitled þ Anonymous ùúùúùúùúùúù Forget his name Forget his face Forget his kiss and warm embrace Forget the love that you once knew Remember he has chose someone over you Forget him when they play your song Forget you cried the whole night long Forget the way you two once knew Remember now he has her Forget you memorized his walk Forget the way you once talked Forget the things he use to say Remember he has gone away Forget the time that went so fast Forget the love you thought would last Forget he said he'd leave you never Remember now he's gone forever Untitled þ Bloodshot ùúùúùúùúùúù a wisp of smoke circles a dark and disfigured body. a fragrance of burnt flesh fills the room and a man with towering height and cocked head stands in the aftermath. moonbeams expose his creamy, pale complexion and handsome features. with a clash of darkness, his black feathers spread, his arms rise to the heavens forming a rainbow of flame, and lightning strikes the soil. with powers unknown to you and I, the dead rises. the regenerated souls filled by the beauty's hate and the little soul ravagers feed on his command. building its strength to further extents. and you pitiful souls watch him. watch him feed off the hungry, the poor, the helpless, and families with low income. until you become the dead. until you become the risen. until you feed. until you taste the flesh and love it. and then you become another dark soul. Untitled þ Kelli Burton ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú follow the stars as they drown in the sea of blackness across your face eye the way they land in heaven and covet your existence you wish to die and live up high among the bright lights and a God you never knew they wanted you or your life or your mind follow the stars as they drown in the sea of blackness across your face they wanted to live as you wanted to die but now they cry. Untitled þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú kisses like butter taffy melted waxen honey flaxen pure whitewash cure bleached of past and future dripping with marks in the spine of an empty book white phosphorus lava flowing between lips cut and recut until memory slips "savior, your love is not for me it's for some other" shadowed by someplace between sunrise and dusk torn between the beggars and the one I use lemonade romances the skylight points up "what's out there" just the moon low, yellow, and laughing It pains, the fields need to be reaped 'gain one more touch to help forget that much. Untitled þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Quakerstate oil greasers eye my shirt and tie as I breathe contempt and elitism though my silver sighs I'm up there, I know it it's "inhuman" but I'll grow into it it's freedom, don't blow it have an ace in your sleeve and a smile. Lazy June erasers scraping 'gainst my mind they want quarters nickles, dimes and dollars any damn thing they can find... some might have jobs and some look fine but I see down the street and it's panhandlers in line there's the bus rider row and they all want what's mine. There's two flavors of folk out there, you'd have to agree one's with nooses 'round their necks the rest cutting them down from the tree took me daylong and I finally got myself down so baby, if you don't love me your feet ain't gonna touch ground. Untitled þ Twilight & Marcella Garcia ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú When I looked up into my starlit heaven, I found that I had gazed upon a silver cloud with your face on it. I called for it to come down, but it only smiled and began to sing a soft melody. As the notes became louder and clearer, I realized that the song was the same song that was playing when we met so long ago. I remember that day like it was yesterday...holding hands while skipping together in the waist-high grass. The sun frolicking upon our shoulders and the breeze playing hide-and-seek in our hair - and especially when you brought me down to my knees, our figures hidden by the wild grass blades, and your lips chased the sunbeams across my face. I remember that day, and I cry because that was the day you told me you were leaving - this land, this home, and me... And so ironically, you said you had to go off to fight in distant lands - in such a peaceful, soft voice. But then, as you kissed away my forlorn tears, you had something special to give me. So, as you took my hand, and led me down a path where the wild grass leaves were pressed into the soft dirt, to a tree. There was a tin box that you had put there and a hole that you had made. And reaching in the dark chasm, you retrieved a tarnished heart-shaped box and handed it to me. As I opened the squeaking lid, I saw a beautiful intricate locket. I still wear it. I always have, even though you've been gone for over twenty years. You told me to open it only if you never came back. And I wait. Waiting Rain þ Hilan ùúùúùúùúùúùú when rain comes he is waiting on his roof thin tin buckets his habit tied to his waist he boils it lets the steam float away eats what's left the acid crying short lines filling inside up he hovers over ink spilled on his blank paper clothes stains inhales sentences tries rising in his balloon leans out to the sky but the air cools quick pressurized in his recliner in each hand a remote control flipping drinking flipping watching for the weather growing silent still hands thirsty sobbing and mute tired waiting for þùúùþ Hilan is twenty-seven years old and has been writing poetry and fiction for ten years. He has lived, at least for a few minutes, in thirty-nine of the fifty United States and currently resides in semi-rural Pennsylvania. He intends to teach creative writing at the college level after completing graduate school. Hilan has published work in American Knight, Fox Cry, Manna, Old Hickory Review, Word & Image, and several other journals. When Words Shall Mean No More þ KSDark ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù When spoken words of love Are turned into rage And pleas for salvation Are silenced by fear When all our good intentions Crumble at a sound Then words shall mean no more When the last I'm sorry is said For cruel actions done Or the last child cries Because of hateful screams When asking for forgiveness Is no longer accepted Words can mean no more When words cannot describe Hollow feelings within When cries release no pain And tears remain inside When this world succumbs to silence Except for anguished cries And when I love you is forgotten From fear of being hurt The time when words were real Seems very long ago When cries of pain fade away And we finally give in to sleep Then words shall mean no more Where Is The Light? þ Christopher Stolle ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú something has got me down and I don't now what it is creeping up on me like a storm as it wreaks my total existence and my fears run deeper and deeper I stood on solid ground that was loose all my functions began to dissolve so I ran, I ran, to where do I run then I hit the end of a road and I smashed into a wall can't wait for the savior time are short and sour I couldn't climb a ladder so I climbed a mountain and I fell on a bed of roses I sleep with ease and peace my ego never was visible so I cry, I cry, to whom do I cry and when I awake I'm alone in this overpopulated world so where is she, where is she that woman in my dreams and where, where is the light Wither þ Stephen W. Brodie ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Release my heart and set me free For the flowers have all wilted The rain no longer falls The sun no longer shines upon me And my patience is wearing thin Hopelessness gives in to my advances As I calmly wait for Death But He does not come for me And yet I lie still Counting the rotting limbs Of my quivering form Dried and lifeless As ashes burnt and Spread apart by the wind No purpose but to wander Aimlessly on gusts of life But never my own þùúùþ Stephen W. Brodie was born and raised in Dallas, TX. He enjoys spending time with his daughter, Autumn, playing soccer, and working with computers. He is also the publisher/editor of Illya's Honey - A Quarterly Journal of Poetry (website at http://web2.airmail.net/bachman1/ill.html). Once in a while he may even get a chance to eat or sleep (very little). His poetry has appeared or is now appearing in: Children, Churches and Daddies, The Droplet Journal, Implosion: A Journal of the Bizarre and Eccentric, Jack the Daw, Nuthouse, Sophomore Jinx, The Word, Ygdrasil, and the MADDVOCATE from Mothers Against Drunk Driving (M.A.D.D.), among others (some of which he would rather no one knew about). Without A License þ Christopher Stolle ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú how many times can I speak words that have never been spoken before how can I find words that are fresh when no one can create new words without a license. how many times can I sing a song that has never been sung before rhymes never written before and the tune sounds raw or old when no one can create new lyrics without a license. how many times can I eat the same food until it really turns dry and bland and I'd rather just perish in starvation when no one can create new food without a license. Wretched þ Dawn Green ùúùúùúùúùúùú crackled underneath your skin searing out the fixed anger a lifetime of lies spill from your skull fragments of a blissful sleep scattered across the floor all your false tyranny bleeding on your pillow seaping into stained sheets redundant curses, no longer to be muttered reluctant kisses, no more to be demanded everything he did came back to haunt you you raged your demons on him you carried his burning cross never thinking you were even the score would not be settled your talents wasted on filth for what, now? you're nothing anymore just a pile of bones lying in your blood lying in a flood of tears silently blaspheming your maddening god. anger exploding from your fingertips at last your screaming ceases we're allowed to rest breathing in from conciousness breaking free from your disease siezing hope through bullet wounds pounding on the door you were the scorned now you're the mourned dancing ever with your blood stained feet shadowed in catharsis. and while i hate you, loathe what you have done abhorr what you became my little sister my baby whore you trampled everyone in your race to the top to raunchy lusts and tired sex clinging to dirty chests all you wanted was a little bit of comfort and a slave to overwork you gave with all your mind darling girl never with your heart something collapsed inside you and died before you would it strangled you until you had fed it everything who can say what torments who can say what this meant who can judge what you have done my dearest baby sister why couldn't you talk to me i hated your deafening silence i loathed your apathy and desperation i miss you i wish you hadn't taken you away. You Again þ Mark Eugene Stevens/MrPoi ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù I watched you last night nestled in the corner of the Dirty Drummer drinking a cigarette and dripping off an Izod stranger. I didn't say anything but I fingered through my drink trying to catch memories of broken kite strings and Charlotte's Web surprises and pulling touches in the hush of your room. You Are Not Alone þ Stephen W. Brodie ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù It's 4 a.m. on a Wednesday night and the phone just keeps on ringing though you swear you unplugged it hours ago and yet it wakes you up again and this time you can't shake the dreams and so you creep from the darkness of your room to the darkness of the hallway and through the pitch black stillness of the living room but your mind was already here, searching for that missing part of... something you reach for the switch to bring light gushing in and around your tired eyes but there is no switch, just a hole and a couple of wires left holding on to nothing and your chin drops to your chest and there is that very same hole only much larger and you need to cry out but you don't want to wake anyone and your stomach is churning, what's left of your brain is spinning, and everything around you just revolves... and evolves... and dissolves... before your very eyes and you can no longer hold on, so you spill your bleach-white self all across the kitchen floor where it can easily be cleaned up with a little soap and water cuz you wouldn't want to frighten the others, should they come for a glass of water in the middle of the night and step in you, sour and curdling on the very foundation of your... home, where your pain is usually tucked away behind the bedroom door or in the photo albums on the coffee table or in the wooden chest way back in the corner of the attic behind all those other memories But not today because it's the five-year anniversary of... something and you were certain everyone was asleep where they ought to be and besides, aren't moms people too? ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Submit your original literary works for Spilled Ink, [volume thirteen], to Twilight via Internet e-mail: twilight@mail.utexas.edu ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù