Die Luft by Katlynn Stecklein

You are the air around me, clairvoyant and amok I see you in everything, breathing you in You take shape in any form you want me to fill You are the air that inflames a fire that’s meant for destruction You are the air filling water molecules to wash me out That sits on top…

A Song for Someone by Adison Linder

I tried to write a song. A melancholy song, full of days of numbness like codeine, depriving me of all sensation, and nights spent staring at the wall because no matter how I tossed and turned or kicked, sleep wouldn’t bring its comatose embrace. A simple song, a D-minor, maybe an E-major, an A chord,…

Diary of an Enraged Student by Pricilla Jordan

I am black before I am human,  I am a disgrace before I am accepted, I am a thief before I am an ally. I am a child before I am bright, I am dead before I am alive, I am split between two worlds and Neither one accepts me. I am broken but taped…

The Desert Bluffs’ Corruption by Adison Linder

Light Like a thousand suns, never flickering, relentless beam of a beacon. It spreads everywhere, a tangle of vines suffocating out the dark. Nothing is safe from its interrogations. Everyone looks toward it, eyes bleeding, they cry out its name joyously. They praise it, adore it, worship it, that awful blinding light, But you close…

Fade to Black by Adison Linder

Serpent’s tongue, coated with silver, Says only what you want to hear. It wraps its coiling torso around your throat, Trapping your voice, now and forever. If you try to dig your nails into its iron scales, Free your windpipe to scream out, It just squeezes tighter. One lie is like a lighter It ignites…

The Halfling Prince by Zoe Coats

Lamentation garb, your falsehood Tears, the memory of an absent childhood Mourn me not, oh father of my sister Leave pine to the greenwood For no eulogy shall be penned In your crude scrawl And no forlorn preacher Reciting in his Southern drawl They fashioned me chains of iron As if that could hold their…

Nobody by Dez Albrecht

Nobody knows Where the Grim Reaper goes But the Grim Reaper feels quite alone. You see, nobody likes him Everyone fears him For doing the job he has to do The blue skies and the hot guys Are things he enjoys too But, in the end he does what he has to do Deep below,…

Family Room by Karen McCurley-Hardesty

2000: Unshagged red carpet: hole at the bottom of the stairs from sledding accidents. Brown television: Channel U, Rabbit Ears, Fuzzy pictures Yellow paisley couch: Treasures inside Headstands and wrestling Grey walls: Finger paint and crayon Cross-stitched marriage license 2001: Shiney Pergo floors: Green geometric rug No running Black television: Remote controls More channels Gold…