By: Shrey Verma A boy of twelve or thirteenMeanders the boisterous streets,Covered by a dirty and ripped shirtWhich leaves his body exposed to the worldLike his childhood to wretchedness.During the day,He blends surreptitiously into the crowdTo find pockets to pickAnd…
By: Lazarus Blue nostalgia In blue nostalgia—I am sinking,and I am nowhere to be found,I’ve descended in her deepnessand I keep on going down. darkness engulfs meas waters become colder,my lungs collapseunder my shoulders. but in obscurity there is groundpiercing…
By: Stephan Tashoff The Great Schism My bright side is in the morning light.When noon tolls,darkness encroaches the bordersof my soul.There is a March on the cornerof my greatness.Yet the smile from a flower’s stemcan send me weightless.There is a…
By: Umar YB LETTER TO MY HATER Take these words in a wayThat’s okay to youThey carry the truthI wish you knew:All waters and the winds,The constelletions afar,Greens, marines, mammals,And birds of all featherAnd I, love one another. My dear…
By: Alan Berger A mean drunk some of the timeA body and mind of loveliness most of the timeHer love will never be mine We all have our addictionsAll are sublimeSome we kickMost we can’t lickWhich is fineShe is mine…
By: Adam Lee Staying indoors How are we meant toescape from thoughtwhen all the activated portalshave shrunk and closedup like the ragged headsof flowers in a summer drought? We are like that wandering ghostwho struggles to re-enterthe locked, richly furnishedmansion…
By: Ezewuzie Nkiruka Being lonely Many are scared of the dark,some are scared of wild animals,some are scared of death,others are scared of insects and strange creaturesbut nothing scares me more than the thought of being lonely.Having no one by…
By Michael Lee Johnson Virus in the Air, Spasms in my Back There’s a virus in the air, but I can’t see it.People are dying around me, but I can’t save them.There are spikes pierced in my back,spasms, but I…
By: Emalisa Rose I go for the wounded firstoffering a bag fill of what’sleft in the fridge; some daysi bring macaroni Roy says most likely his clawgot cut off in a fight; you cansee he’s the bull in the bunch.I…
By: Christopher Brooks Tequila I like a glass tequilawhen I sit to writea poemat night. The quiet in my roomis a delight,quitestill. The glass is thinits rim is finethe taste is sharp— piquant. ### Physics I tripped. And suddenly I…